Golden Blood: The White Hand
by JetpackClam1
Summary: A long, cold Winter has fallen over the magical land of Equestria. Blizzards rage across the land like wild beasts, burying the country beneath a heavy blanket of ice. Torn from their homes and their loved ones, the Elements of Harmony find themselves thrust into an ages old conflict of creation and destruction, the ancient and the new, fratricide and genocide, oppression and...
1. Prologue: Snowflake

~JetpackClam

Prologue: Snowflake

The figure stood at the edge of the cliff, his eyes fixed coldly onto the world below. He watched in silence as the Earth was engulfed in the icy embrace of Winter; he was unfazed by the deafening howl of the wind, not registering the cold mountain air, unflinching as it pierced his body like an arrow. The wind tousled his smooth, white hair, billowing behind him in the breeze like a curtain the color of snow.

His arms lay against his sides, his hand resting lightly on the pommel of a sword clasped to his hip. Occasionally, his fingers wrapped themselves around the handle, gripping the blade absentmindedly and drumming against his thigh as he silently stared into the white oblivion of the storm. He was like a statue of flesh and bone, exuding the raw power of the elements, the ancient presence of a being as old as the Earth itself, the majesty of a king. Graceful, stoic, regal - proud.

Below him, there was a frost-laden plain stretching on for miles and miles into the distance. Like a glistening canvas of pure, alabaster snow, it swallowed the Earth whole, hiding the world beneath an impermeable crust of thick, powdery ice. A blizzard rushed through the valley, filling the air with droves of wind-driven flakes and wrapping the ground in a white, scintillating blanket. Even through the blinding haze of the snowstorm, nothing escaped the figure's view. This was his domain. The blizzard was like an extension of his own body - he could see everything, he could _feel_everything.

He closed his eyes. He reached out with his arm, his palm turned towards the sky, his head bowed. Thin veins of gleaming blue light ran up and down his fingers, wrapping around the slender digits like the roots of a tree ingrained within his flesh. They glowed a sombre shade of cobalt, emanating mystical, unearthly power that seemed, somehow, to transcend the world around it. His fingers were curled, as if he was holding something in the palm of his hand, but there was nothing for him to hold but the cold, empty air.

His face was serene. He saw it clear as day; the rest of the world fell away as he envisioned the lattice framework, his heart guiding him as he pieced the pattern together in his head. It was as though he'd taken a back seat in his own mind, and had given his soul free reign to do exactly as it pleased.

It was clear to him. It was the marriage of the simple and the abstruse. Erratic, yet subtle. Special, and yet so much like the countless others that had come before it.

All that was left to do now was make it real.

He leaned his head back, but his eyes remained closed. He inhaled, letting the frigid mountain air fill his lungs until they felt ready to burst. Then, without any further ceremony, he refocused his mind onto the image, directed the magic into his palm, and commanded it to take shape.

The veins running along his hand started to pulsate, his fingers tensing as the power coursed through his body like electricity. He felt a rush as the world bent to obey him, the matter conforming to his will like a puppet dancing for its master. A white, gossamer mist formed in the crux of his hand, swirling like the trails of ghosts between his fingers as he extracted the essence of cold from the air. It converged in his palm, condensing into a tiny sphere of icy vapor floating an inch above his flesh, and slowly started to solidify as it molded itself into the exact form he desired.

His arm went lax. The mist dissipated. He opened his eyes, and there it was, as real as the ground beneath his feet.

It was perfect.

A single snowflake hovered where the ball of mist was not a moment ago. It was exactly as he imagined. He saw how every arm interlocked, coalescing into an elegant shape with numerous identical branches extending out from the center. All the pieces fit together flawlessly, forming an immaculate structure that was so small, so fragile, it seemed ready to shatter at the lightest touch of the breeze.

He turned it slowly around in the air as he studied his specimen from every possible angle. It caught the pale light like a diamond glistening in the sun, like a miniature chandelier suspended between a million candles as bright as the stars. He was so entranced by his creation, he almost didn't notice his visitor arrive. Almost.

"I can see why you spend so much time here, Frídr'in," a voice mused. "I can feel my blood starting to freeze. Of course, you'd feel right at home."

Frídr'in smiled.

"It's good to see you too, Áran'in."

Áran'in walked up soundlessly, taking his place on the cliff beside his brother without another word. He crossed his arms, gazing out over the precipice at the barren terrain down below with a thoughtful glint in his eye.

He stroked the stubble on his chin as the wind ran its fingers through his wavy black hair. Any normal being, of normal flesh and blood, would have been shivering uncontrollably as the cold sapped the warmth from his body; him, he just pulled his cloak closer into his breast, and said nothing. He cupped his hands over his mouth and exhaled into his fingers, warming his digits and watching as his wispy breath drifted away before vanishing forever into the impenetrable haze of the snowstorm.

Frídr'in was admiring his creation the way that only an artist could. There was a lively twinkle in his eye.

"What do you think?" He asked without looking away. His voice was low, as if he was afraid that speaking any louder would shatter it.

Áran'in's eyes flicked towards him. He had a feeling he knew what he was talking about, but he asked regardless. "About what?"

Frídr'in finally tore his eyes off the tiny structure in his hand and looked at his brother. He was grinning.

"About this."

He gestured to their surroundings with his free hand. He turned on his heel so that his outstretched arm swept over the environment, and took a few short steps away from the ledge. Frídr'in's back was turned to him now, but he could still practically see that giant smirk plastered onto his face.

"My masterpiece."

Áran'in's eyes drifted across the landscape. It was a barren, featureless void as far as the eye could see. It was so lifeless, he felt himself die a little inside just looking at it. He could never understand his brother's fascination with something so dull, compared to all the wonders of the world available to them.

But it made him happy. That was good enough for him.

He gave a grin of his own. "Something tells me you like snow... a bit too much, Frídr'in. Not that I'm judging, of course..."

Fridr'in scoffed. "What's that supposed to mean?" He was doing his absolute worst to sound scandalized. And it was working.

"Oh, I think you know just what I'm talking about..." He reached up, catching a few snowflakes in his palm and eying them critically. He raised his eyebrows suggestively.

He couldn't help it; the absurdity of that notion was so bizarre, so ridiculous, he had no choice but to laugh. He chuckled in spite of himself, shaking his head as he reclaimed his place on the ledge. Áran'in found himself joining in, and soon, both were laughing wholeheartedly, one holding back tears, the other with his face buried in his palm.

The laughter faded off slowly, their voices carried away like dust thrown into the wind. A comfortable silence descended between the two, both content just to enjoy each others presence as they observed the ice blowing wildly about their heads. Áran'in sighed in satisfaction.

"...In all seriousness... you've outdone yourself, dear brother. It's nothing short of a work of art."

Frídr'in nodded gratefully. He returned to marveling over the snowflake, trying earnestly to find any laws with his work, and failing.

There weren't many in this world who Frídr'in could honestly say he felt comfortable around. Áran'in was an exception. His company, his mere presence, made him feel young again, almost as though all the weight of the eons were momentarily lifted from his shoulders. In recent years, he was Frídr'in's only confidant; it had been a long time since he'd had any close mortal companions, and longer still since the days when the very mention of his name didn't strike terror into the hearts of the living. He was the bringer of Winter; the Devourer, the Northern Wind, the Ravager. Mortals, beasts, even the dragons knew to respect his power. It was hard to be welcome in a world gripped by fear, and harder still not to be afraid of something which could crush you like a bug with the flick of a wrist.

Áran'in was different. He didn't tremble at the very sight of him, nor did he lay prostrate in his presence for fear of invoking his wrath. As his brother, and the only being left capable of matching his strength, he had nothing to be afraid of from Frídr'in, and vice versa. It was a welcome change, and an immensely cathartic one at that.

It wasn't always like this. There was a time, long ago, when the people knew him not as a fearsome destroyer, but as a friend. He was younger, then; not as weathered by countless ages spent adrift in the currents of time. Memories from long ago floated to the front of his mind, bringing with them a sad smile as he remembered days long since lost to the bottomless pit of the past.

A thick, ethereal fog filled his mind. The faces of people he once held dear emerged from the mist, now mere shadows of their former selves, treading aimlessly through the darkness like wraiths cursed to wander the corridors of his mind, forever. They were all that remained of them; all he had left.

He hated to admit it, but there was another reason he kept such small company. Everything dies, eventually. This was something he learned the hard way, many times in the past. Mortals replaced mortals, nations rose and fell. The continents were completely different today than they were in ages past. Valleys were carved into the earth where once there stood mountains which scraped the fabric of the clouds. Even the stars would die when the time came, their light vanishing from above, one by one, leaving behind an empty spot in the sky where once, long ago, the fires of heaven so brightly burned.

He'd lost too much to time, the one thing even they could not control. But they survived in his memories. And because of that, they lived on forever.

Not Aran'in, though. Because he was the same. He shouldered the burden of immortality right alongside him; he was eternal and unchanging and insusceptible to time, just like he was, when everything around them was destined to crumble. As such, he was the only one he could grow close to without knowing, in the back of his head, that one day, he was going to lose him too.

They were more than brothers. They were two of a kind.

He snapped himself from his reminiscing; he had no idea of how much time had passed. He turned to address his brother.

"Is there a reason you're here, or do you just enjoy calling my... preferences, into question?"

The ghost of a smile crossed Áran'in's lips, but it faded just as quickly. That was answer enough.

"There is. As much as I love to tease you, Frídr'in, I'm afraid there are more pressing matters at the moment than your... unhealthy obsession with frozen water."

He snorted. "Oh, I love it too, dear brother, believe me. It's cute. Well, go on then. What do you need to tell me?"

His question hung in the air for a moment, neither answered nor unanswered. Áran'in was silent; he seemed to have remembered something that he'd much rather have forgotten. His jovial demeanor vanished, and was instantly replaced by one of weariness and regret. Whatever it was he wanted to say, he didn't seem at all eager to say it. He sighed.

"March is almost over. It'll be Spring soon. You know what that means."

Áran'in could have sworn he felt the winds falter for a fraction of a second, before recovering just as quickly. He said nothing more as he let the message sink in, watching the blizzard rage on the tundra far below in silence.

He saw how the wind tore violently across the clearing as it carried his brother's snowflakes through the air. It would have been devastating, if there was anything on the terrain to ravage, but the landscape was as bare and empty as the moon. Honestly, he found it rather poetic.

" ...it means it's time for me to go," he whispered.

Áran'in just nodded, and looked to the ground.

For a few, excruciating moments, they both said nothing. The only sound was that of the wind blowing wildly across the clouds, whistling sharply above their heads with their delicate parcels in tow. Before too long, the tension became too much to bear. Áran'in was the first to break the silence.

"I'm sorry, dear brother-"

"Don't be. You have nothing to apologize for." Áran'in looked up. Frídr'in was still looking away; he could see the corner of his mouth raise in what he must have hoped was a reassuring smile, but his brother could see the bitterness hidden underneath, like a cloak concealing a dagger. It was his turn to sigh.

"No... I'm sorry. I'm sorry... that something so beautiful couldn't have lasted forever."

Áran'in stared at his brother remorsefully. Nothing could have hidden the pain in his voice. This was hardly the first time he'd had to remind his brother of the change of the seasons, but it never got any easier. There was a grain of truth to his earlier teasing; Frídr'in's creations were almost as precious to him as life itself. Sometimes, Frídr'in honestly wondered whether there was anything he truly cared for other than his work, barring his brother. He was afraid to answer that question.

He looked at the world below, filled from top to bottom with his handiwork. Within a month's time, everything they saw would be gone. Every individual snowflake would have been melted by the onset of Spring, to make way for a new kind of beauty that flew in the face of everything he was.

Frídr'in clenched his fist. Áran'in placed a hand on his brother's shoulder, and he relaxed. What he said next was simple, but wise.

"Nothing lasts forever."

A bittersweet smile crossed Frídr'in's lips.

"Except for us... isn't that right, dear brother?" His voice was dangerously quiet.

Áran'in looked away. More silence. Then, he managed a nod. "… we're Gods. Gods never die."

Frídr'in reached up and covered Áran'in's hand with his own. It felt like he'd been buried up to his wrist in ice.

"... he did."

The silence between them was as thick as smoke. They stood close together as the storm continued to blow furiously around their heads. Áran'in could feel the storm picking up speed; what was once a solemn howl of mourning grew into an ear-splitting shriek of agony. Aran'in swore he could feel the sky itself start to crack. Áran'in's arm, despite his efforts to stay firm, began to shake. "We won't share his fate... I won't let us."

Fridr'in raised his head slightly, his mouth twisted into a rueful smile. His voice was on the verge of breaking.

"Are you so sure...?"

For the first time in eons, Áran'in didn't know what to say. He struggled to find a proper response, but try as he might, it was no use; he was speechless. He couldn't remember, in all his years, another time he'd seen his brother like this. His mouth moved, words forming on his lips and hanging off the tip of his tongue, but still nothing came. He was dumbstruck.

Frídr'in's face was like stone, but the pleading and desperation in his voice was clear. He met his eyes. There, he saw something he hadn't seen in a long, long time. He thought for a moment, trying to place what exactly it was, before realization dawned on him.

It was fear. Frídr'in, immortal Lord of Ice and Snow, The Craftsman of the North - The God of Winter - was scared.

Suddenly, Áran'in knew what to say. His voice was firm and confident and clear as he spoke. He sounded every bit the ruler he was.

"I am. I promise you, I'm not going anywhere. And... and neither are you."

Frídr'in could tell from his tone that this was a promise that Áran'in intended to keep. The skirr calmed somewhat; the relative peace of a few moments ago returned, reassembling itself around them like the shattered fragments of a statue slipping delicately back into place.

He released his grip on Frídr'in's shoulder and turned to walk away from the cliff. He paused; he slowly turned to face him and whispered one last thing, venom seeping from his words like poison dripping from the fangs of a snake. His voice was even icier than the storm he spoke through.

"You've already taken one brother from me..."

Frídr'in turned, but Áran'in was already gone. He was alone.

All around him, the storm flared up like a white bonfire. The world was enveloped in darkness as, above, the clouds formed a thick, grey canopy spanning the breadth of the sky. The temperature plummeted like a rock dropped into the ocean. It was as if the storm had been holding back this whole time; now, the real blizzard was unleashed upon the world. The true extent of Winter's power was realized.

As the world descended into an inferno of ice and darkness, the master stood back, and watched. Frídr'in bowed his head, the storm engulfing him in a shroud of white as his steely eyes fixed themselves firmly upon the horizon.

He released the snowflake, and watched the wind carry it away.


	2. Chapter One: Summer Snow

~JetpackClam

Chapter One – Summer Snow

The first thing Twilight noticed was that she couldn't see. A vast, amaranthine void stretched out before her, flooding her eyes with darkness as pure and black as a starless sky. It closed in around her, crushing her beneath its weight; it was like she was being suffocated, as if she'd been put at the bottom of an ocean of shadow and left to drown. She was sinking into oblivion like a waterlogged plank, powerless to stop herself as she slipped further and further into the hollow, unfeeling depths - and it terrified her.

The air was unnaturally cold against her skin. It was as if the sun had suddenly decided to leave, to vanish from the dome of the sky and to take all the light and warmth in the world along with it. She imagined this was how it felt inside a morgue; dark as blood, cold as ice, silent as death. A haunting chill permeated the air and sucked all the heat from Twilight's body, leaving her cold and empty, as though the claws of death itself had ripped her heart from her chest.

She had no idea where she was, and something told her that she really didn't want to find out. All she knew right then was that she wanted to be as far away from this place as possible. She didn't care where she was, as long as she was free from this sea of impregnable darkness.

In her mind, she painted a picture of home. She visualized her library in the heart of Ponyville, and imagined herself surrounded by a familiar labyrinth of books. She expected to feel the familiar sensation of magic rushing down from her horn and filling her body like warm milk, but nothing came. She frowned; her horn felt numb, almost as if it wasn't there at all.

Fear started to rear up inside her. She tried to conjure a light in the hopes of at least dispersing the darkness, but it was useless.

She tried to scream. Nothing came.

Then, just as she was about to be consumed by terror, she finally saw something. The world came into existence around her like the set of a play being put together right before her eyes. There was light, however dim; there was a dark, cloudy sky hanging overhead; there was ground beneath her hooves. And before her, she saw a colossal mountain towering up into the clouds, reaching far above the land and scraping the fabric of the sky.

The mountain was steep, and as jagged as shark's teeth, but the mountain levelled out near the summit. She froze; there, she saw two alien figures locked in combat, trading blows with one another in a brutal, yet graceful, duet of death. In their hands, they held ornate silver blades; the iridescent metal gleamed as though infused with the brilliance of the stars, hungry for flesh, thirsty for blood. With each time the blades met, a crash like thunder rang out across the sky, and the ground shook beneath their feet, as though the Earth itself was trembling under the force. They wore an onyx tapestry of silk and chain which covered most of their bodies; Twilight would remember the tunic as having looked like a cross between a soldier's hauberk and a sorcerer's vestments, flowing down from their necks and ending past their knees a rippling cascade of sleek, diaphanous black. Matching cloaks were draped over their shoulders, radiating sheer, untainted beauty as though they were sewn from the night itself.

What was visible of their skin; their arms, their hands, their feet; was beige with the lightest hints of a tan, hairless except for the trace amounts of scruff clinging to their faces like moss to a rock. Long, flowing manes of hair flowed down to their shoulders: one was wavy, the other smooth; one black, and one white. Tufts of equally black fur, like a bear's, lined their robes, making them seem even larger than they actually were. They both possessed the strength and vigor of youth, but weariness hung over the two like a raincloud dampening their spirits. In their eyes, she saw a spark of ancient wisdom that only many lifetimes worth of experience could give.

She saw something else as well. Something which, to her, was even more rare: suffering. Loss. Anger. Twilight knew nothing of these two; she'd never seen anything like them before in her life. But she felt their pain all the same.

For a moment, there was a lull in the chaos. The winds calmed somewhat, but not enough to quell the storm which threatened to tear the heavens apart overhead. The two disengaged, withdrawing from each other wordlessly and jumping back to the edge of the clearing. Their boots dug into the snow as they landed, leaving heavy prints in the ground as they skid to a halt at opposite ends of the field. Their eyes never left each other.

They began to speak. The tongue was one that Twilight couldn't understand, but occasionally, she heard strings of words that, for whatever reason, she was able to decipher.

_... __an__entire__world__lies__dead__at__your__feet__._

_A__world__they__stole__from__us__to__begin__with__._

_You__'__re__one__to__speak__of__taking__that__which__isn__'__t__yours__..._

Their voices carried easily over the storm which engulfed the mountaintop, until, as suddenly as they'd stopped, they jumped back into the fray. The two met in a hurricane of silver, slashing, hacking, parrying each other viciously, like a pair of rabid dogs fighting to the last gasp.

Twilight could do nothing but look on in horror as the struggle escalated, until, at last, the black-haired one gained the upper hand. There was an arc of steel across the sky, a trail of gold following in its wake. His rival collapsed, clutching his wrist as he fell to the ground; from what Twilight could see, a part of his foreleg had been severed, leaving an ugly stump of a limb behind. Golden liquid gushed from the wound, staining the snow beneath the color of honey. His weapon flew through the air before embedding itself into the snow, buried up to the hilt in the ground a few endless meters away.

The black-haired one's eyes showed neither triumph nor remorse. They were empty. He placed his foot atop his adversary's chest, readying his blade as though to strike at his throat. But before anything could happen, the two disappeared, taking what little she saw of the world with them and plunging her back into the strangling hold of darkness.

Then, a voice filled her ears, speaking to her as if from everywhere, but nowhere in particular. It was behind her, beside her, above her, inside her head, but it wasn't in any of these places. She couldn't see him, but somehow, she knew the voice belonged to the one with black hair; firm, deep and clear, it carried with it the wisdom and power to surpass even that of Princess Celestia herself. But she heard something else, too, something buried in his voice like a fossil buried deep within the crust of the earth. Regret.

_"__Twilight__Sparkle__... __apprentice__to__... __to__Princess__Celestia__... __I__, __Áran__'__in__, __Lord__of__Souls__, __speak__... __directly__to__you__."_

Twilight wanted to yell, to demand that the voice's owner show himself, but she couldn't. She had no choice but to listen as the presence continued;

_"__I__come__to__you__now__... __to__give__you__a__warning__. __Soon__... __very__soon__... __you__will__be__paid__a__visit__by__an__... __old__friend__of__mine__. __If__allowed__, __he__will__bring__ruin__to__... __everything__you__hold__dear__. __Neither__you__... __nor__Celestia__... __not__even__the__Elements__of__Harmony__will__be__able__to__stop__him__. __That__responsibility__... __lies__with__me__._

_ "__But__... __I__need__your__help__. __For__millennia__, __I__'__ve__been__shackled__with__chains__of__stone__... __cursed__to__be__a__prisoner__within__my__own__body__, __until__the__sun__itself__faded__away__. __Find__me__, __Twilight__Sparkle__... __and__free__me__from__my__bonds__... __that__I__may__meet__this__evil__, __and__at__last__put__an__end__to__what__he__started__... __to__what__we__started__... __all__those__countless__years__ago__._

_ "__This__world__has__forgotten__me__... __but__I__'__ve__not__forgotten__you__."_

Then, the voice faded. She was alone.

Something told her that she should have woken up right then, but something else kept her from doing so. She felt something... cold, grasping her by the hoof; she struggled, but the icy grip held firm, like a cuff made of steel chaining her to the plane of the dream. She looked down, and this time, her scream rang clear out across the abyss.

It was a hand; that much was clear, but she had never seen a hand before which looked quite like this one. It was thin, bony, with five angular fingers wrapped around her ankle; It was hairless, and lacked any sort of claws to speak of; the skin was drooping and wrinkled, with what seemed to be veins pressed against the flesh from underneath. It disappeared below the wrist, as though the hand's owner was hiding in the shadows just beyond the edge of her vision. But what stood out to her most of all was the color.

The hand was white as snow.

Without thinking, she readied the most potent spell she could; the energy built in her horn for a moment before discharging towards her captor in an enormous burst of light. This spell could have fatally injured a Hydra, but the hand simply recoiled as if stung by an insect, releasing her from its bone-chilling grip with an indignant gasp of pain. Twilight willed herself to wake before the monstrosity could recover; as the world disappeared around her, the cry turned into an enraged scream.

The nightmare was over.

Twilight's eyes fluttered open. The world was a blur, swimming around in her head like a pool of muddy water as she slowly drifted out of her languid state. She was wrapped in a blanket that was more comfortable than it had any right to be, and for a moment, the purple unicorn's mind was clear of all thought as she basked in the warmth of her silken cocoon.

She sighed, letting the tranquil ambiance of the morning lull her nearly back to sleep as she pulled the covers closer in to her body. She was suspended, floating, comfortably numb, in a pool of her own blissful, ignorant succor. It was so perfect, she wished she could stay like this forever.

But before she could fall back asleep, the memory of the dream came crashing down on her like a meteor striking the earth. She remembered everything: the pair of two-legged warriors battling atop the summit as the apocalypse unfolded around them; the terror she felt as the world fell like a house of cards, as they traded killing blows like they were nothing. She remembered the cryptic message, the voice that spoke to her as if from inside, and outside, her head. She remembered being powerless, being unable to move, and being forced to bear witness to the spectacle playing out before her. She remembered the white hand, clutching her, pulling her down...

She shot straight up with a gasp, letting the covers slide off her shoulders as she was enveloped in the gentle warmth of the sun. Her heart thumped frantically against her ribcage, pumping fear through her veins and rinsing all traces of sleep from her body. She gasped for breath, letting the brisk morning air fill her lungs as her eyes darted wildly about the room.

The sight of shelves lining the walls, filled end to end with books of various shades and sizes, assured her that she was safe and sound in Ponyville's library. She caught the familiar scent of parchment wafting through the air; she let the fragrance fill her mind, washing away the ubiquitous fog of panic in a soothing, aromatic wave of clarity. The pounding in her chest grew lighter and lighter with each second that passed, until only a light, rhythmic beating remained.

She relaxed; she was calm. She closed her eyes and fell unceremoniously back onto the bed. She pulled the sheets back up and covered her face In her hooves, wiping the sweat from her brow and massaging her temples at the same time. She inhaled sharply, holding in her breath for a moment, before releasing the air from her chest in a sigh.

Her eyes were shut tight, but she was as awake as she could be. Now that coherence had returned to her, her mind set itself to poring over the dream from a rational perspective. She could still remember everything perfectly: the sights and sounds reconstructed themselves more vividly than even the most lucid of dreams could be; the hill, the two atop the hill; that hideous hand as it wrapped its icy fingers around her leg; the cryptic warning that Equestria was about to be attacked.

Her eyes shot open.

She was far from superstitious, but she knew better than anypony not to underestimate the weight of dreams. To ignore such a warning about what was to come would be foolish, perhaps fatally so.

If his words proved true...

_His__name__... __what__did__he__say__it__was__?... '__Áran__'__in__'...?_

She felt she'd heard that name before, but she couldn't recall for the life of her where. She mulled it over for a few minutes before groaning in frustration, throwing the sheets off her body and climbing roughly out of the bed. Her hooves thudded sharply against the wooden floor; she didn't even bother to brush the purple strands of her mane from her eyes before she called out for her assistant.

"Spike, we have a problem."

She heard him snort in response, shortly before a mass of blankets stirred on the other end of the room. He mumbled incoherently as he dug his head out of the covers, his eyes peeling open obediently; the dragon raised a claw to his mouth and stifled a yawn, betraying his fatigue as he squinted in the morning sunlight. The golden rays glinted off his lavender scales like they were gemstones, shimmering brilliantly in the pristine light as though his skin was crafted from shards of amethyst.

"Wha... Twilight? What's wrong?"

"I don't know, Spike. But something tells me that, soon, we'll be wishing it'd stayed that way."

A short time later, the two were in the main room of the library, scouring the wealth of knowledge hidden away within the bookshelves for leads. Several books were already piled atop Twilight's desk, slowly starting to reach above her head as she hastily recorded something on a fresh roll of parchment. The quill made rapid, yet gentle strokes as it floated above the paper, ensconced in an iridescent cloud of purple through which the tip just barely connected with the sheet.

She was writing as quickly as she could whilst still remaining legible, trying to put everything down on paper before she had the chance to forget. Luckily, the voice remained fresh in her mind, and before too long, she had transcribed the whole message from start to finish in her well-practiced calligraphy that only years of scribe-work could bring.

She placed the quill in the inkwell, letting the rippling pool of black ink settle, and brought the parchment closer. Her brow was scrunched in concentration as she scrutinized the lines scrawled out across the page. She had so many questions; about the vision, about the warning, about what she should do next; but there was one question which she couldn't have ignored, even if she tried.

_Who__, __exactly__, __was__Áran__'__in__?_

She sighed and buried her head between her hooves, letting the parchment fall lightly back onto the table. Spike, meanwhile, was skimming through another book; he mumbled to himself inaudibly as he flipped through the pages, fishing through the text for answers, to no avail. He shook his head, shutting the book and looking to the unicorn dejectedly.

"Nothing, Twi'... I can't find a... a single reference to anyone named 'Áran'in...'"

He traipsed over to the desk and placed the book atop the table. He rested his elbows and clasped one hand over another, gingerly tapping his claws against the wooden surface as he fought the urge to fall back asleep.

Twilight looked at the dragon remorsefully. He was little more than a child. He was still shorter than most ponies, and at the moment, he was barely even able to breathe fire. She'd been present when he was born, and in fact, it was her who'd hatched Spike's egg. She often thought of the tiny drake as a younger sibling of sorts; strangers might find the relationship odd, but those who knew the pair well enough knew better than to question the bond they shared.

She hated to drag him out of bed so early; the sun had just barely started to peek over the horizon not ten minutes ago; but they had a job to do. She constantly had to remind herself that the needs of Equestria came before her's, or even Spike's, and as the protege of the land's sovereign, Princess Celestia herself, it was her responsibility to aid in the defense of the realm in any way she could. If there was a threat, as she strongly suspected there was, they couldn't afford to rest until they were sure that the danger had passed.

She raised one of the books arbitrarily and began to read. Her voice took on a tone of urgency. "Just keep looking, Spike. There just has to be something, I know there i-." She fell silent. "... Spike, where'd you find this?"

"Uhh... whu... what? Oh, um, it was in... Equestrian History... why...?"

She prodded his side. She could practically see the electricity shooting up his spine as he jolted upright. "This passage here. It mentions that ancient pony civilizations, the ones from before the Hearthswarming Migration, may have worshiped a deity known by the title 'Lord of Souls.' Spike, look in the Ancient Mythology section. Something tells me you'll find something interesting."

"Mythology? But, that's-" he yawned. "-... but, those are just... well, myths."

"So was Nightmare Moon," she replied, her voice grim.

The answer, and the name, seemed to terrify him. He pushed himself off the desk and jogged towards another wing of the library, grabbing a ladder laying against the wall as he passed. He leaned the ladder against one of the bookcases and deftly climbed the rungs to the top.

"Áran'in... his warning... the white hand... what does it all mean?" she asked herself. Spike shrugged from atop the ladder. "And that last thing he said... 'This world has forgotten me... but I've not forgotten you'? … who? Who have we forgotten?"

Spike was trying to listen, but he was focusing on the colorful collection of spines arranged within the hollow of the bookcase. He briefly scanned the titles before settling on one, reaching forward and slipping an old, dusty tome out into the light.

Twilight telekinetically swiped the book out of his hand and brought it across the room, opening it in the same motion. She started to read.

"Spike, take a letter, please... to the Princess."

Something was wrong.

Rainbow Dash shot up in bed. Her eyes were wide and filled with alarm as they jumped back and forth around the room, her pupils dilating to catch the sparing light of the dawn as it trickled in through the window. She could tell that it was early, much earlier than she ever would have woken up of her own accord, but right then, the pegasi's usually languid demeanor seemed to have vanished into thin air.

The sunlight was just beginning to slip into the house, illuminating the inside of her home in a layer of gold as the shadows of twilight were just starting to recede. The room was surprisingly dull; the only hint of color was the Wonderbolt-themed bedspread adorning her mattress. The rest of the room never deviated from a mundane pallet of grey, white, and dark blue, something she'd done to be reminiscent of the architectural style of her ancestors.

Her sleek, sky-blue coat glistened in the sunshine like an azure waterfall streaming down her skin. She had nothing short of a rainbow flowing down over her face, every individual strand of hair coming alight as the iridescent rays danced delicately along her mane. She looked like a rainbow arcing across a cloudless sky given mortal form.

Rainbow's chest rose and fell smoothly in time with her breathing. She listened for any sound, for any sign of a disturbance, but she was alone. Normally, she would have fallen right back asleep.

Today was different.

She was almost certain what the problem was, but she had to be sure. She stretched her wings out experimentally, exposing them to the cool morning air as she worked the stiffness from her muscles. The air was like icy water trickling down her skin, sending shivers along her spine and chilling her down to the core. She was right.

It was too cold.

_Either__Cloudsdale__changed__the__seasons__early__... __or__I__slept__in__for__six__months__._

She gave a self-deprecating smirk, and sprung into action. She slipped out from the sheets and was on her hooves in the blink of an eye, racing out of the room in a rhythmic flurry of hoofbeats as her mane blew loosely in the wind behind her. She turned, racing down the hall towards a staircase that she didn't bother to use; she leaped to the floor, landing deftly at the base of the stairs with a graceful flap of her wings. Another sharp turn led to the main room of the house; she didn't have time for her normal morning routine, taking only the time to slip on a pair of plain flight goggles hanging from a rack near the sofa before she bolted out the door.

She rushed to stand at the end of the clouds, stopping just before the cottony platform vanished beneath her hooves. The realm of Equestria stretched out below her, giving her an especially grand view of Ponyville in the distance. She watched as the light poured into the village below, the sun peeking over the hills, the clouds rolling like waves across the horizon; the royal city of Canterlot was a glowing silhouette built into the side of a mountain, the majestic spires both graceful and imposing, even from many miles away.

The wind sent her already disheveled mane flailing about in the air behind her. It caught the sun's rays like a fishnet made of silver; in the dawn's light, the loose, vibrant strands were as brilliant as an actual rainbow gracing the sky. She stared at the ground in silence, her eyes wide in shock.

"Sweet Celestia..." she swore under her breath. She blinked and regained her composure, the stunned expression disappearing from her face to make way for a fierce scowl of determination. She slipped the goggles onto her head and pulled them down over her eyes.

Once she was ready, she coiled her legs, and, with a powerful downward thrust from her wings, she sprung off from the cloud and launched herself into the air. She spread her wings like an eagle, raising them above her head and bringing them swiftly back down against her side; her wing beats fell into a steady rhythm, upping her velocity until she was just a cyan blur against the sky, with a trail of rainbow-colored light following in her wake.

For the first time in her life, flying did nothing to quell the dread rising in her heart.

On occasion, Fluttershy chose to sleep downstairs. There was a perfectly comfortable mattress for her in the bedroom a mere staircase away, just waiting for her to climb in and bury herself under the covers, but she opted instead to make herself as relaxed as she could on a tiny couch pushed into the corner of her living room. With an old, faded quilt and the cushions as pillows, she settled in for the night on a scratchy surface barely even wide enough to hold her; nonetheless, she was always able to find sleep much more easily down here than she ever could in her own room.

The reason for this was simple; sometimes, it just made her more comfortable to be closer to her animals. Various kinds of fauna were spread about every corner of the house, most sporting various kinds of injuries ranging from serious fractures and gashes to insignificant scrapes and bruises. It looked very much like the wing of a hospital, and in many ways, this was exactly what it was; when animals were hurt, she cared for them. It was what she did, and what she was best at.

When night fell, they made her feel secure, safer, somehow. Their very presence was like another blanket draped across her back, and she could sleep soundly knowing that, if something happened, she'd be right there to help in any way she could. She was like a foal with stuffed animals, but these were the real thing.

The canary pegasus lived in a quaint little cottage just on the edge of Ponyville, the Everfree Forest not a stone's throw from her front door. Hers was a relatively secluded place, far removed from the commotion of the town proper and immersed instead in the pristine milieu of nature. Honestly, she preferred it this way; true to her name, she was incredibly shy around most, and the tranquility of the countryside guaranteed that she wouldn't be disturbed often.

Today was different.

The sound of glass shattering against the floor stirred Fluttershy from sleep. She opened her eyes, only to be met by the sight of her cottage in chaos. In spite of the early hour, all of the animals in the house seemed to be wide awake, and were busy reducing her normally peaceful abode into a loud, disordered mess of havoc and turmoil. Birds were out of their cages, squawking incessantly as they careened through the air. Gerbils, mice, and all other small rodents were loose from their pens and scurrying frantically around on the floor, their high-pitched squeaking like splinters in Fluttershy's ears. Monkeys screeched as they jumped around the room, swinging wildly on the furniture as if they were trees in a forest. It was like a hurricane of wildlife was tearing through her house, a twister of flesh and feathers and fur leaving a trail of devastation behind it.

She gasped in surprise, climbing out from the blanket and taking in the scene with a look of horror on her face. She ducked just in time to avoid being struck by a pot, cringing as she heard it smash somewhere behind her, and immediately set out trying to restore order to her little cottage. She wasn't worried so much about her belongings; she was more afraid that someone might get hurt than anything else.

"Oh my goodness! Wait, no, stop! Everyone, please, calm down!"

Her protests fell on deaf ears as they continued their feral rampage unabated. Fluttershy was genuinely scared. It was like they were possessed - no matter how much she pleaded, it was like she didn't even exist.

This wasn't right. Usually, she was able to get through to almost any kind of animal effortlessly, but now they were treating her like she was air. She'd never seen anything like it. Nothing she did garnered any sort of response, and it was making her feel completely powerless. She was so terrified, it seemed she wouldn't even be able to rely on The Stare to help her. What could be driving them to act this way?

Fluttershy's eyes darted around the cottage before they settled on the one shape that wasn't moving. Angel Bunny stood coolly atop the kitchen table, chewing lazily on a carrot stick with a half-lidded stare of boredom on his face. Of all the animals there, he was the only one who seemed able to control himself - without looking, he strafed right just in time to avoid being struck in the back of the head with a half-empty bowl of fruit. He didn't even seem to notice the chaos unfolding around him. He was the eye of the storm.

Seeing this, she galloped towards the table, her lush, pink mane billowing loosely in her wake, hastily navigating the anarchy between her and the kitchen as though she were in a warzone. Angel just sat there as the Pegasus slid to a stop on the sleek tile floor, raising her voice feebly to make herself heard over the commotion.

"Angel! What's going on? Why's-" she dodged a lamp "-everyone acting like this?"

Angel swallowed. The hare gently placed the carrot onto the table and gestured behind her with his paw. She turned, following his arm to an old-fashioned thermometer mounted on the wall. It was a simple design, plain and functional, but it served its purpose well enough. It'd hung there since she could remember, but until then, she'd seldom paid it any mind. At first glance, everything seemed to be normal.

Then, she noticed something odd; she stared for a moment, before cantering towards the instrument uncertainly. Her imagination must have been playing tricks on her. She stopped just short of the wall. Now she saw the readings more clearly, and her fears were confirmed. The red line stopped halfway between zero and twenty.

That couldn't be right. This would have been the lowest regional temperature on record, and the first day of Summer was in less than a week. Though she had to admit, now that her attention was undivided, there did seem to be an uncharacteristic chill in the air...

She turned to the hare, who had plucked his carrot back up from the table and resumed eating. He cocked an eyebrow at her.

"Is this...?" She ventured. Angel nodded, wrapping himself with his free arm and shivering exaggeratedly.

She looked again at the animals going ballistic all around her. There was no way a bit of cold could incite this kind of madness from her friends.

"... what's the real reason?" She looked at the hare, who looked mournfully back at her. "Angel...?"

He closed his eyes and dipped his head, and gave no response.

This was answer enough for Fluttershy. In that instant, she became an entirely different person; her animals were like family to her, and she was determined to do whatever it took to protect them. Without another word, she bolted for the door, throwing it open with her mouth, and prepared to step outside.

She paused.

"... maybe I should bring a scarf..."

Pinkie Pie's mornings always started the same way; with a hangover that made her feel like an Ogre was having a boxing match with the inside of her skull.

Her head pounded like a drum as her stomach tried to empty itself of last night's fill of cake, cupcakes, cookies, punch, sarsaparilla, and other confectionaries. The sunlight was like a fork being plunged into her eye, scrambling her brain like they were beating an egg; any sound was amplified tenfold to her tender ears. The previous night of drinking, dancing, and partying never failed to take a vicious toll on the pink mare, rendering her completely miserable throughout the morning as her body struggled to recuperate with her late bout of hedonistic binging.

Today was different.

Her head was clear as she opened her eyes, steadily taking in the morning sunlight without even flinching. She didn't feel like she was going to vomit any time soon, and everything seemed quiet, even peaceful. She felt... strangely normal.

She frowned, and looked suspiciously around her bedroom. It was decently sized, with empty punch bowls, streamers, flaccid balloons, and toppled furniture strewn all about. The only light was from her open window, the sun's auric glow pouring in like golden waterfalls spilling across the floor. The story below her was Sugarcube Corner, the finest confectioner in all of Ponyville, and her place of work. It was her dream job, and living right above the store ensured she couldn't possibly be late, even with the time it took for the ritualistic migraine to pass.

She climbed out of bed, trotting lightly to the middle of the room on hooves which were much more stable than they should have been. She looked uncertain, skeptical, of something, likely of the fact that she wasn't in immeasurable pain right this moment.

Then, it happened. Before she could blink, she was off the ground, floating above the floorboards and spasming uncontrollably in midair. She inflated, deflated, twisted and contorted, making all sorts of noises as the nonsensical outburst took its course. Then, as quickly as it started, it was over, and she fell back to the floor without a single sound. The silence which followed was unnerving, eerie even.

She stared into space for a moment. She mumbled to herself quietly;

"... now that... was a doozy."

The Pinkie Sense was never wrong.

Applejack was no stranger to waking early. She was an apple farmer; her family had risen with the sun every morning since there had been apples to grow. From the dawn, she and her family slaved throughout the day to get their chores done, obsequious in their devotion to earning their place in the world the honest, Apple family way: through their sweat and tears. It was a part of them, defined who they were, and though the miles divided them, they were united in purpose as well as in blood.

So, this morning, as she prepared herself for another grueling day of fieldwork under the harsh rays of Celestia's sun, she couldn't help but notice that certain things were amiss. The rooster; the most reliable, dependable bird who could always be counted on to give a great caw every morning as the sun rose; was silent. The crisp aroma of apples and leaves, a scent which normally perforated Sweet Apple Acres like fire engulfing a tree, was gone. And, most notably of all, the air felt cold, much colder than it should have been at this time of year.

Applejack felt uneasy as she threw off the blanket and trudged out of bed. Her room was spartanly decorated; it was functional, with little embellishment, much like her. She stepped up to her mirror, hurriedly gathering her golden hair into a ponytail and securing it with an old, red scrunchy. She stared into the mirror; her soft, emerald eyes stared uncertainly back.

She turned to leave the room, slipping on an old Stetson hanging from the wall as she passed. She opened the door and stepped into the hallway, passing her siblings' rooms and climbing down the staircase to the kitchen. There, she saw her family; her massive brother Big Macintosh, little sister Applebloom and elderly Granny Smith; gathered around the window, staring outside with varying degrees of dumbstruck wonder on their faces. Their uneaten breakfast lay forgotten on their plates, slowly going cold as the morning air sucked the heat away.

"Um... good mornin'?" Applejack called. "What're y'all doin' over by th'window?"

Big Macintosh leaned back without pulling his eyes from the window. His thick, heavy drawl floated to her from across the room. "Uhh... Applejack... yah might wanna' see this."

Applejack rolled her eyes and made her way to their side of the kitchen. She peered over her brother's shoulder, wanting to know what was so incredibly interesting, but she wasn't prepared for what she saw. Most summer mornings, Sweet Apple Acres would have been vibrant, the trees lush and green, the apples full and red and nearly ripe for bucking.

Today was different.

She recoiled from the window, her eyes wide in shock. "What in tarnation..."

Of all the ponies in town, Rarity must have appreciated the importance of sleep the most of all. Fatigue was a severe detriment to one's appearance, as everypony knew. To neglect rest, in her mind, was an unspeakable violation of her standards, and on most days, she never would have allowed herself to fall victim to such a travesty.

And yet, last night, she hadn't slept a single wink. She couldn't afford to; not with this deadline looming overhead. It was gravely important that she finish this shipment, and if she missed her quota, she dared not think what might happen. Her looks were important, of course, but work always came before superficial matters. Especially at this time of year, now that the Grand Galloping Gala; the largest gathering of influential ponies in the realm; was just around the corner.

The snow-white unicorn narrowed her eyes in concentration, her horn alight with a magical gleam as she simultaneously levitated a measuring tape and a pair of scissors above her. She brought the tape down across the fabric and cut a smooth, delicate path from end to end along the tape's edge. The outcome was perfect, as it always was; for a dress of her design, she wouldn't settle for anything less.

It had been a long night of slaving over designs, but at long last, it was nearly finished. She placed the tape and scissors gently down onto a nearby table, plucking the strip of cloth from the ground and scrutinizing it with a well-trained eye.

She was in her own world now. She pictured the dress she was soon to craft, seeming clear as day in her mind as she worked to give it form. She looked to her mannequin, imagining the way the dress would complement the wearer's curves like an architect surveying the grounds of a brand new castle, envisioning how grand the structure would be as it reached gloriously up into the heavens. And, as she envisioned her own delicate ensemble, in her mind, it seemed no less as grand.

Time was short. She placed the patch on the model, beginning her work with a graceful, yet fervent eloquence as she started to bring her creation into the world. Another patch here, a few stitches there, some dye on this patch, some ribbon on that. All of it fell together perfectly, as if the materials had been designed with this very purpose in mind.

As she worked at her craft, the dress came together like an elaborate puzzle of silk and textiles and embroidery, growing more and more intricate, and beautiful, with every move she made. To her, it was more than just a dress; she was giving a piece of her soul in its concception, imbuing within the glistening threads a life of its own, until the entire dress glowed with the fire of her spirit.

"Rarity!" The sweet, yet gratingly high voice flowed ringingly down the staircase.

Rarity dropped the glass bowl she'd been holding; she cringed as she heard the bowl shatter and watched the pins scatter madly around on the floor. Her eye twitched. How many times had she told Sweetie Belle not to interrupt her while she was working? She grit her teeth, but feigned a pleasant tone regardless.

"Yes, Sweetie Belle? What is it?" She bent her forelegs, meticulously plucking the pins from the carpet and gathering them in a spare bowl she'd had nearby. Her little sister's reply sounded unsure.

"There's... uhh... something... wrong... outside.. I really think you should see this!"

Rarity felt her temper rising, but she caught herself. "Not now, Sweetie Belle, dear! I'm under the horn here! I don't have time for your games right now!"

She could practically feel Sweetie rolling her eyes. "Would you just come up and have a look? This is serious!"

Rarity felt an impulse to point out that they spoke two completely different languages when it came to 'serious', but she held her tongue. She sighed, exasperated. Apparently, she was never going to finish her quota. "Fine. I'll be up in a minute!"

Sometimes, she wondered what she was going to do with Sweetie Belle. True to her name, she was the sweetest sister any mare could ever hope for, but there were times where she needed to focus on her work, and she wasn't able to handle her distractions. This was one such time where she wished being an older sister could have been just a little less stressful..

Rarity climbed the staircase elegantly. Sweetie Belle met her at the top, a stunned look on her face. Rarity looked at her expectantly. "What is it?"

Sweetie Belle said nothing, and gestured to the window at the other end of the room.

This time, it was Rarity's turn to roll her eyes, but she relented and played along, hoping this would allow her to return to her dresses sooner. She sauntered over to the window, swinging it open and poking her head outside. She felt herself die a little inside as the wind sent her perfectly styled mane was sent into disarray, but the feeling vanished soon, to be replaced by one of shock as she took in the scene below her.

On most summer days, Ponyville basked in the ocean of the sun's warmth, like a flower blossoming into a peaceful, flourishing haven of life and beauty. The air should have been clear and gentle and filled with birds' song, and a gentle zephyr should have blown through town like the life-giving breath of Celestia herself.

Today was different.

Rarity groaned in her mind.Not now, she thought. Oh, please, Celestia, don't let this be happening now. If there was one thing what she saw meant, it was that the world was broken. And if the world was broken, of course, she and her friends were going to be expected to fix it.

She pulled her head back inside. Apparently, this dress was going to have to wait.

"... your faithful student, Twilight Sparkle."

Spike finished the note with a satisfying tap of his quill. The air of finality was as firm and concrete as a cover laid upon a coffin.

Twilight nodded. Spike rolled the scroll into a cylinder, holding it pinched between his thumb and his index claw in front of him. He inhaled deeply, and with his next breath, he exhaled a bright plume of smokeless, green fire onto the paper. It swirled around as if driven by the wind, the flames roaring lightly as they engulfed the parchment in gentle emerald tongues, and when they vanished, the parchment was gone. Twilight turned her head just in time to watch the twinkling trail of smoke hover wistfully out the open window, and disappear far off into the distance.

"Twilight, are you sure about this? What if it turns out t'be nothing?" Spike's voice was laden with concern.

"It's not nothing, Spike. I _know_ it isn't." She sat down on the floor of the library. "... it never is." She recalled all the times she'd read about dreams and premonitions meaning the difference in the rise and fall of empires. How many famines had been averted because of dreams had in the middle of the night? How many proud kingdoms were preserved because of the guidance the Gods granted their rulers in their sleep? She knew the weight that dreams could have, and she wasn't going to ignore this one.

She supported her chin in her hooves, a thoughtful look in her eye. "I was given a warning last night. I was visited in my dreams, by this Lord of Souls, and he spoke to me, and he showed me things that felt more real than any dream could ever be. I don't know who he is or what he wants with us, or even if he's telling the truth, but in any case, we'd be fools not to listen." She felt something in her hair, and looked up in surprise. Spike was standing by her side, gently running his claws through Twilight's perse mane like running his hand through a cool, lavender stream.

Twilight wrapped her hooves around the little dragon and held him tight, firmly locking him into a sibling's embrace. He returned the gesture without hesitation.

This heartwarming moment was interrupted when Twilight started to shiver. It had been a cold morning - too cold, she thought - but the temperature had only plummeted since then. To her, It no longer felt like Summer at all.

Spike chuckled. "I'll just close the window, then..." He released the unicorn and made his way to the window. He placed a hand on the unlatched glass swinging lazily about on its hinges, but paused when he took a look outside. There were a few tense moments of silence, until he turned back to her, his mouth partly open in shock.

"... Twilight... I think your friend's warning may've come true..."

Twilight didn't need to hear any more. She sprung up onto her hooves, rushing to the door of the library without another word. The door burst open in a flash of purple light, and she stepped outside. She was rendered speechless by what she saw.

"I must be seeing things..." Twilight murmured, stepping out from the awnings of her home and into the middle of the street. Above her, thousands of tiny snowflakes descended from the clouds. They settled lightly on the ground, covering the entire town in a delicate crust of fine, powdery white. Already, the whole of Ponyville was buried under a massive pile of snow, a blanket as cold and deadly as a frozen Tartarus. Several ponies were out of their homes, staring at the spectacle in comparable stages of disbelief and wonder.

Spike came running out of the library to join her. They stood close together, staring up into the snow-filled sky as one.

"Spike... what day is it?"

"Uhh... It's June Fifteenth, Twi'."

"June Fifteenth... Summer should be just around the corner..." her voice drifted off. The frozen snow gleamed with the light of the sun as they fell. She followed one of the scores of snowflakes, her eyes moving with it as it lowered through the air, landing, soft as a feather, atop its kin. The fragile beauty almost made her forget that this wasn't supposed to be happening - not now.

Another gleam filled the corner of her eye, this one as familiar to her as the back of her hoof. She looked up. "Rainbow!" She called.

Like a bolt of chromatic lightning, she shot rapidly through the air, sending snow flying as she came to a screeching halt right above her with a powerful flap of her wings. She hovered in place, her wings flapping like a hummingbird's as she shook the snow from her mane. She addressed her in turn.

"Twi', we've got a problem," she started, her voice cracking slightly. "I'm sure I don't gotta tell you that the weather's... weird." A snowflake landed on her nose, and she blew it away absentmindedly.

Twilight nodded. "So I've noticed. What, have the Weatherponies been drinking their own rainbow juice?" She smirked, but Rainbow didn't return it, and it faded just as quickly as it appeared. If Dash of all ponies was being serious, then she knew something was gravely wrong.

Just then, she felt a gentle breeze pick up, setting the snowflakes drifting lightly in one direction. She cleared her throat, and continued; "Well, this shouldn't be too much of a problem for you. I've seen you clear an entire sky of clouds in a matter of seconds. And It's still early, we could clean up this whole mess in no time if we started now."

"Yeah, well, that's the thing," Rainbow 's reply came. "I tried, Twi'. I swear I did. I even got the rest of my team, and, even with all of us together, nothing we do works." Her voice dripped with defeat, and she bowed her head in shame. "It's like... It's like this storm's alive, or something. Like it... like it doesn't wanna leave."

Twilight frowned. She felt the wind grow stronger, more forceful, sending both her and Rainbow's manes whipping wildly around her head. It made the air feel colder, like the storm had sunk its fangs into her and started to seep the warmth from her bones. She shifted on her hooves uncomfortably, staring silently at the ground, deep in thought.

Spike, who'd been silent during their exchange, spoke up, having to raise his voice to be heard over the wind. "What's wrong, Rainbow Dash? Do you know why this is happening?"

"Not a clue," she shrugged. "That's... actually why I'm here. I'd hoped Twilight'd be able to help..." She looked to her friend imploringly. Twilight, however, was lost in her own little world. The other two watched her for a few moments. Spike just barely heard as she whispered to herself; "... we will be paid a visit..."

She looked at Rainbow with a fire in her eyes that surprised both of them. "I think I have some idea... I'm not certain, but if I'm right, then I don't think this is just any Summer snowstorm we're dealing with."

With a mighty roar, the storm grew even stronger. The snow was now driven wildly around their heads, the beginnings of a blinding haze starting to appear as what was once a gentle flurry turned into a small, but ferocious, blizzard. The change was sudden, and it set Twilight's head spinning. She covered her face with one hoof, and shouted to Rainbow; she had trouble even hearing herself over the force of the gale. "Rainbow, quick, gather your team and order them to tell everypony to come to my library!" Rainbow was about to interject, but Twilight cut her off. "Please, Rainbow, just do it! I have a plan!"

For a second, Rainbow floated uncertainly. Then she saluted, and dutifully zipped off into the blizzard, disappearing as her trail was consumed by a rapidly thickening fog.

Twilight nudged Spike back into the library, following shortly afterward and shutting the door loudly behind her. She welcomed the warmth of her home as Spike turned to face her.

"Twilight, what're you doing? Why're you asking for everypony to come here? I doubt this place is even big enough to hold that many ponies!"

"Did you see how strong the storm was?" She countered. "And at this rate, it's just going to get stronger. It's not safe out there, Spike, and if this keeps up, I'm betting that all the houses in town'll be buried by day's end. In here, though, I can protect them; my magic will keep us safe."

He opened his mouth to argue, but no words came. He settled instead for groaning in frustration as he walked to the far end of the library, slumping down into a corner and burying his face in the crook of his arms.

Before long the townsfolk started to arrive. There were only a few at first, but before long, the refugees from the storm started flooding in like water through an open dam. Families came with their foals, young couples, individuals; vendors and artists and craftsponies and farmers, unicorn and pegasus and earth pony alike. The familiar faces surrounded her, comforting her. She'd been living in this town for almost two years now, and in a place this small, it would have been hard for her not to have come to know almost all of her neighbors. She was proud to say that, despite the massive sea of faces now filling her home, she knew the name of every single one.

The differences went beyond just their faces. Their cutie marks; special markings upon a pony's flank which determined that pony's talents, what made them unique; were as erratic and wildly varied as one could expect them to be. On one pony, Lyra, she saw the instrument which she was named for. On several others she saw an hourglass, on another there was a bundle of fruit, and on yet another she saw a sextuplet of bubbles. Each had a different meaning, and each was what specified that individual's place in the world.

She looked back at her own mark; a large, pink star surrounded by five small, white stars. Young foals earned their cutie marks when they discovered what made them special; her's had been with her since the day Spike was hatched. Most unicorns were limited in their magical abilities to only that which was related in some way to their special talent, but in Twilight's case, magic [i]was[/i] her talent. For her, the possibilities were endless, and, after she'd been taken on as Princess Celestia's personal protege, it hadn't been long before she was one of the most powerful magicians in all of Equestria.

As her eyes sifted through the crowd, she noticed one mark which stood out to her in particular; a trio of apples on an orange background. "Applejack!" She called over the din of excited voices.

The orange mare turned at the sound. She saw her, and she greeted her friend, her distinctive Savanneigh drawl accentuating every word she said; "Twi', am ah happy to see you! Ah looked out the window this mornin', and, by Celestia's mane, ah saw Sweet Apple Acres covered haunches-high in snow! Snow! Near the start'a Summer! Rainbow came by about then, and says ah gotta bring mah family to the library as soon's ah can. Y'mind tellin' me what's going on?"

Twilight waited patiently for her to finish, and gave her reply. "Yes, I asked her to bring you here. The weather's been acting strange lately, as I'm sure you've noticed, and nothing Rainbow does seems to work. As for why, I don't know, but I have a theory I'd like to share with you as soon as everypony's present and accounted for. In the meantime, the blizzard's getting stronger, and I don't think Ponyville's safe."

A thought occurred to her. "Speaking of that, we need to talk. Can you gather up the Elements and meet me in the upper part of the library?"

Applejack nodded. "Will do, Twi'." Then, she turned and vanished into the mass of bodies filling the room.

Twilight made her way to the staircase and climbed up to her bedroom. It felt wonderful to be free from the crowd down below - she was starting to feel claustrophobic. She settled herself in on her mattress and waited for them to join her, and before too long, each of her closest friends came bounding, flying, and creeping up the staircase one by one. Five ponies joined her in total; Rainbow Dash, Applejack, Fluttershy, Rarity, and Pinkie Pie. They greeted each other briefly, and took spots wherever they liked at Twilight's behest.

The Elements of Harmony were the most powerful form of magic known to Ponykind, said to be the purest incarnation of the magic of friendship in all of existence. The Elements held their own physical forms, yet their spirits were embodied through six avatars representing the qualities of Kindness, Loyalty, Generosity, Laughter, Honesty, and finally, Magic. Twilight was blessed with Magic; the rest fell to the five mares now in her company. Loyalty was Rainbow Dash, while Honesty was Applejack. Generosity was Rarity's Element, and Kindness was Fluttershy's, whereas the Element of Laughter belonged to none other than Pinkie Pie. Together, they were utterly unmatched; there wasn't an enemy Equestria had faced yet that could stand up to the might of the Elements, and they were all certain that there never would be.

All except Twilight.

Once they were convened, Twilight began to speak. "Rainbow Dash, is everypony in the library?"

Rainbow Dash nodded. With this, Twilight climbed off the bed, rose to her full height, and closed her eyes in concentration. Her horn started to glow; she bit her lip, a bead of sweat rolling slowly down the side of her face. Everypony felt the air warm considerably, and the bitter wind seemed to die down. Then, the glow disappeared, and Twilight relaxed, panting heavily as she fell back down onto the bed.

A few moments passed. Rainbow spoke up. "Twilight, what was that?"

"I'm glad you asked," she replied through labored breaths. "You see, after my brother's wedding, I decided to develop a rudimentary civilian adaptation of the ward he conjured to protect Canterlot. It'll protect us from the storm for as long as it holds. Hopefully, it'll give us enough time to find a solution."

The ponies gathered peeked out the glass doorway to the balcony, and sure enough, the entire library was encompassed by a giant orb of transparent magenta light. Outside, they saw the snowstorm was stronger than ever; they heard it roar as it dumped ton after ton of snow onto the town, trying, and failing, to breach Twilight's shield as it did. It was like watching a ravenous beast from behind the bars of a cage, but the cage was theirs, and they sat, cowering, just beyond the predator's reach.

Twilight called for them to listen; they all quietly returned to their seats, and once she had their attention, she began to explain the situation in its entirety.

"It all started last night, when I was asleep. I had a dream. No normal dream, of course; I believe it was a premonition of some kind, or at the very least of some sort of supernatural origin. I saw two creatures of a race I'd never seen before dueling on a mountaintop. It was like the world was ending; the sky was dark and filled with clouds, there was a snowstorm that makes this one like like a vacation to Stalliongrad. At one point, I heard them talking. I couldn't understand most of it, but I was able to catch a little something something along the lines of the world lying dead at their feet.

"Anyhow, eventually, one of them lost, but everything faded away before the other had a chance to do anything else. Then, he started to talk. To me. He called himself 'Áran'in, Lord of Souls,'; I did a search on the name earlier today, and his eponym appeared in a book stating that a deity so titled was worshipped by pony societies from before the Hearthswarming Migration. Whoever he is, he warned me about a 'visit' we'd be given by someone close to him, perhaps another member of his pantheon; a visit I strongly suspect is somehow linked to the snowstorm happening right now, right outside our doors. He told me that he was the only one that could stop it, that even the Princesses didn't have the power to protect us. The only problem is, he said that he was..." Twilight paused as she tried to remember the exact wording, "'shackled with chains of stone... cursed to be a prisoner within his own body... until the sun itself faded away.'... whatever that means. And he says that only the Elements can free him.

"I don't know what exactly's going on, but I'll bet my horn it's related to the dream I had. I sent the Princess a letter earlier today, telling her everything. Now, I'm just waiting for her response..."

She was cut off by the sun appearing on the floor below. The crowd gasped and tried to get away, awed and terrified as a spiraling sphere of flaming white light manifested in the center of the room. It floated high above the ponies' heads, deafening to hear and blinding to look at, burning with an ethereal light like that of the stars. The snaking tendrils of flame licked hungrily at the air like waves from a sea of fire, coasting fluidly along the orange surface and veiling the center of the sphere from view. The room's temperature climbed to normal Summer highs in what seemed like the blink of an eye, and in that moment, the blizzard raging just outside the walls of the library was completely forgotten.

The light was intense, and the colors solid as stone; yet, though they couldn't see, there wasn't a single pony there who didn't know what, or rather, who, was waiting in the star's core. They could practically see her silhouette now.

Just as suddenly as it had appeared, the fiery ball vanished, leaving not a trace of smoke behind as the heavenly light left their view. The roaring warmth vanished along with the flames, and the icy chill of Winter returned to fill the void, though lessened. Then, there was only silence. Twilight uncovered her eyes and rose to her hooves, moving to stand with her friends at the balustrade overlooking the ground floor, gazing into the center of the room with an expectant spark in her eye.

Sure as could be, there she was; Princess Celestia, ruler of the realm of Equestria. She was a pony, without a doubt, but with her elegance and her boundless grace, the likeness of an eagle or a swan came more readily to mind. She stood twice the height of any other pony, and as an Alicorn, sported both a majestic pair of wings, beating powerfully to keep her aflutter, and an exquisite horn, much longer than any mortal unicorn's, so beautiful and sublime it may have been carved out of marble. Her gossamer mane was alight with the beauty of the dawn, glimmering radiantly in all the colors of the sky as it was blown gently about by a nonexistant breeze. A giant ruby encrusted pendant hung from her neck, and the image of the sun was emblazoned on her flank. All the wisdom of a hundred centuries sat in her eyes, eyes which now gazed down at her subjects with both a soft, matronly love, and a firm, commanding authority.

"Wow. Flashy entrance," someone whispered behind them.

The Elements whipped around. Standing behind them was Princess Luna, Warden of the Night. She was so much like and unlike her older sister, the comparison was almost dizzying. She was shorter than Celestia, though still taller than most of her subjects, and whereas Celestia's coat was a pure, untainted white, Luna's was a deep, soothing azure, the color of the night. Her mane had the same floating quality to it, streaming lazily about her heads though the air was still, but rather than the day, the night itself seemed to flow out from her crown. The stars twinkled spectacularly as the sky rippled in her mane behind her, like an ephemeral curtain tailored from the fabric of the heavens. She, too, was an Alicorn, and shared a both wings and a horn of her own, and her cutie mark was nothing other than the crescent moon. She flashed the Elements a haughty grin.

"Miss me?" She said teasingly. She sauntered over to the railings and stood next to Twilight. All the Elements stared for a moment, then realized they were expected to bow. Luna chucked, and bid them to rise. She continued;

"Of course, It's not like We can blame her." Twilight noted her use of the 'royal We'. "With everything that's going on, everypony needs a strong figure to look to. To give them hope." She gazed approvingly at her sister, eyes flashing with the love and admiration of a younger sibling.

Celestia raised a hoof, and the crowd was instantly hushed. Now that everypony was quiet, Celestia began to speak. Her voice was gentle and melodious, much like she was;

"My subjects, have no fear. I, Princess Celestia, now stand at your side."

The crowd bowed, and Celestia bid them rise with another wave of her hoof.

"As I'm sure you're all aware, earlier today, this town and the surrounding countryside were beset by a terrible blizzard. Very soon, the Summer Solstice will be upon us, and yet, a vicious storm now buries your homes beneath layer after layer of snow. But, do not despair, for we stand ready to act; it will not be long now before the warmth of Summer returns to these lands. I, Celestia, your Princess, promise you - before the day of the Solstice has arrived, this accursed blizzard will have passed, and Summer will reign in its stead."

There was a explosion of cheering from the floor of the library. This time, she didn't bother to silence them; instead, she turned in midair and hovered towards the room where the Elements were gathered. Everypony stepped back to make room as she landed in the middle of Twilight's bedroom. She took a few easy steps towards the window, and sighed.

"Oh, thank the sun that's over with..."


	3. Chapter Two: The Phoenix

~JetpackClam

Chapter Two – The Phoenix

Though the fiercest blizzard seen in a lifetime raged down Ponyville's idyllic streets, inside her treehouse, Twilight Sparkle felt as warm and sound as a foal in her crib.

Now that the Royal Sisters were with them, Twilight's confidence soared. Celestia was like a second mother to her, in more ways than on. She'd raised her, mentored her, sheltered her from the world her entire childhood, giving her everything she needed to excel and become the best she could be. She'd given her a place in her court when she was but a filly, taught her more than the greatest instructors could ever dream to teach their pupils. She'd been one of her only confidants in the long years before she came to Ponyville, believed her about Nightmare Moon when nopony else did. And, perhaps most importantly of all, she had her to thank for the wonderful friends she had today. She owed the Princess more than she could ever hope to repay, even if she were to live a thousand lifetimes in her service.

Everypony took their seats, except for Luna and Celestia, who stood. Once the formalities were out of the way and before the sisters gave their side of the story, Princess Celestia summoned a sound barrier into place to ensure none of the ponies on the landing below would hear. Once this was done, they began to explain the situation in earnest, as the Elements listened on in respectful silence.

"I came as soon as your letter arrived," Celestia said with a graceful air to her words. Apparently, the letter in question had appeared amidst reports of unusual Wintry activity in the province of Ponyshire, of which Ponyville was the local seat of government. "When I received your warning of an attack, I decided my personal attention was necessary." She gave a sidelong glance out the window. "I see they weren't joking when they said there was a blizzard in the middle of June," she noted dryly.

"We've received word of strange phenomena from all regions of the realm," Luna's archaic patois chimed in. Her speech had come a long way to resembling something modern since the group had last seen her, but some traces of the old tongue still remained - a firm air of command that even the centuries locked within the stars couldn't take away. "The San Palomino desert is seeing its first instance of snowfall in recorded history. Whatever black magic this is, Ponyville isn't alone in its reckoning."

Twilight nodded as she absorbed this information. On the other side of the room, Rarity spoke up. The seamstress seemed to sew each word as delicately as though it were one of her dresses. "Could Discord have escaped again, your majesty?"

"We'd thought the same thing, at first." Celestia replied. "But his statue remains in the castle gardens. Whatever the problem is, we believe it has nothing to do with Discord."

Twilight shuddered at the mention of the Chimera's name. More specifically called a Draconequus, the hideous beast known as Discord was the stuff of very disturbing nightmares. With the face of a pony and a body composed from all sorts of creatures, Discord was as sickening and grotesque as he was sinister and cruel. A spirit of disharmony and chaos, Discord had ruled Equestria long ago in a perpetual state of conflict and madness, until Celestia and Luna overthrew him, the power of the Elements their sword. After his defeat, he'd been cursed to the form of a statue, neither living nor dead, and from then on, the King of Chaos was nothing more than a decoration in the royal gardens of Canterlot, a final look of horror etched forever into his face.

About a year ago, Discord was freed by some unknown means, and, with his newfound liberty, he embarked on a crusade of antics throughout the realm. For a short while, all of Equestria was under his influence - the sun rose and set seemingly at random, the roads turned to soap beneath their hooves, bears in tutus formed dancing troupes, and chocolate milk exploded arbitrarily. For Discord, it was paradise.

The people were affected similarly. Friends were turned against friends, sibling against sibling, lover against lover. The taint of disharmony infected the Elements like a virus, twisting them into corrupted caricatures of themselves with personalities as skewed as Discord's own. Their friendship in shambles, all attempts to use the Elements of Harmony had failed. Equestria was almost lost on that day, Twilight recalled sadly.

Then, the Princess reminded her of what friendship was, returning each of the reports she'd sent every week since she'd first arrived in Ponyville. Twilight struck back with a newfound strength, determined to salvage both her friendship, and the sanity of the world. Not too long after, the six stood united by harmony once again, and they vanquished the Draconequus in much the same way as Luna and Celestia had over one thousand years ago, petrifying him and returning him to the Canterlot statue garden, right where he belonged.

The news that Discord wasn't loose was a comfort, but at least he was an enemy they'd dealt with before. Now,though...

"Then, is it... Windigoes?" Rainbow Dash suggested.

Luna's mouth twisted into a melancholy smile, but it didn't last long. "The Windigoes have been gone for thousands of years, child. We need fear them no longer."

Twilight frowned. Discord and the Windigoes were the two things she knew of that could have been responsible for these blizzards, and both had been dismissed. She raised her concerns. "If not Discord or Windigoes, your highness... then what?"

Celestia stared at the floor in silence as everypony gathered around for her answer. Twilight could have sworn she saw something in her eyes that had no place being there – fear.

"... I may have some idea... but I hope, for all of our sakes, that I'm wrong."

_When__have__you_ _ever__been__wrong__before__?_ Twilight wanted to say, but she held her tongue.

Celestia looked up. The fear was gone from her eyes; instead, they burned with the fire of the sun, as they were meant to. "Everypony, listen very carefully. From this point onwards, you all must swear to me that nothing that passes from our lips will ever leave this room. You must give me your word that, under _no_circumstances, will you breathe a word of this to anypony, _no__matter_ _what_."

She paused as everypony recoiled, taken aback at her command, and then elaborated. "What I'm about to tell you will change the entire way you look at your history, your world, even ponykind itself. If this information reaches the wrong ears, there's no telling what the repercussions might be. Before I continue, I need to know that I can trust you with the knowledge I'm to give. Do you understand?"

The Elements stared at her, shaken both by what she was saying and the ardor with which she said it. The tension was thick enough to choke on. Luna raised an eyebrow; it was a look that was curious, but also one that refused to be intimidated.

"You have my word, Princess." Twilight was the first to speak. She looked to her friends, and one by one, they nodded their assent. Pinkie Pie gave a lighthearted 'oki doki loki', earning a chuckle from her friends and easing the atmosphere noticeably.

Celestia sighed in relief. "Thank you," she breathed. "Thank all of you."

Twilight smiled, and asked; "So... what is it you wanted to tell us, Princess?"

Celestia paused, as if wondering how she should proceed. She decided to start with a question. "Twilight, what do you know about the Hearthswarming Migration?"

Twilight's ears perked. The Hearthswarming Migration, the story of how ponykind first arrived in Equestria, was only one of the most well-known stories in all of the realm, and one of Twilight's favorites by far. The name brought to mind images of perpetual snowfall, ancient civilizations, monstrous beasts and the gallant heroes that conquered them, along with the faces of the most important ponies of the era. She smiled as she remembered the reenactment her friends had done at the theater in Canterlot last year. "... pretty much everything there is to know, Princess."

Celestia nodded slowly. "Take that knowledge, every fact, every last detail... and forget all of it."

She blinked in surprise. "What?... But... but Princess... why?"

"Twilight... you are a brilliant student... but the sad truth is, none of the stories ever happened. They're just myths, no more."

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Twilight would never think to doubt her princess, but she couldn't stop herself from bristling indignantly at her words. Claims of this sort were the last she'd have ever thought she would hear from any sane pony, let alone Celestia. If it had been anypony else, she would have given them the vicious rebuking they deserved. But not her.

Somehow, she managed to watch her tone as she replied. "With all due respect, Princess... our current understanding of those events have been the field's best for several thousands of years. How can they be completely wrong?"

Celestia looked to the ground sadly. She seemed to be remembering something painful, something she'd much rather forget. "... Because I was there when they happened."

As the Elements spoke with the Princesses on the landing above, Spike had taken to passing the time by scavenging the library for information. He combed his way through the records dutifully, his eye open for anything that may have been useful, hoping against hope to find the book Twilight needed. In truth, he doubted he'd find anything, but this was immeasurably better than sitting idly about, doing nothing as catastrophe unfolded outside. Focusing on the books helped keep his mind off of everything: the massive gathering of refugees in the library, the damage to the town, the merciless cold. And, best of all, it kept him from worrying – kept him from worrying if anypony was hurt.

When nopony was looking, Spike slipped through a well-hidden hatch in the floor, tucked away into an oft-overooked corner. He passed through several of Twilight's wards without incident as he lowered himself along a ladder leading into the inner archives of the library. Why it was hidden was a mystery to him; Twilight had made him promise not to breathe a word of it to anypony, but she'd never told him what the reason was. Spike could only guess that delicate information was kept here, and it had just occurred to him that, if he needed to find something that others may want to be kept hidden, then this was the place to look.

While he was thankful that there were no ponies in this part of the house, the dim, musty atmosphere of a room gone far too long without cleaning wasn't much of an improvement. Here, he continued his search where he'd left off earlier that morning, strolling through the ward with Twilight's words ringing in his head;

_Something__tells__me__you__'__ll__find__something__interesting__._

"Interesting..." he spat, as though the word left a bad taste in his mouth. "Hmph. The most 'interesting' things in this place are dust and cobwebs."

It was colder here than in the library proper, impossible as that may have seemed before. The bookcases formed a series of corridors, each one wide enough for ten of Spike to cross them side by side. He chose one and began walking, shuffling his feet along the carpet as the shadows stretched, impossibly long, across the floor.

Spike listened to the howl of the wind, leaning his head back to gaze upwards along the walls of books towering high above his head. They loomed over him like giants, seeming monstrously huge to a child of his size. The shadows crept at the edge of the light, sinister and menacing and staring down at him with an invisible smile. He could've sworn it was watching him, but he refused to be afraid. That was what it wanted.

Before too long, he'd reached the very end of the wing. He grabbed the ladder, already leaned against the bookshelf, and started to climb, his eyes glancing over dozens of spines along the way. The ground grew further beneath him as he rose, the fall growing more and more precarious as his claws became grimy with dust. He tried not to breathe too deeply – he'd nearly coughed and lost his grip once already – and kept moving until he reached the top of the bookcase, the ceiling not too far above his head.

As a dragon, his eyes were far better than any mere pony's. He didn't even have to squint in the darkness as he scanned through the faded titles, meticulously working his way through the sea of texts until he found something interesting.

Like a diamond buried in the dirt, he found it.

Celestia's revelation hung in the air like a knife dangling from a string.

One could have heard a pin drop in the silence that followed, nopony daring to breathe as they considered everything the beige Alicorn had told them. Even after all this time, she'd never made her age public knowledge, and the answer – that it surpassed even the founding of Equestria itself – was far beyond even their most wild conjectures. The privilege made Twilight feel both honored, and speechless.

It was a minute before anypony said anything. When at last somepony spoke, everypony was surprised to see that it was Fluttershy who'd recovered first. Her voice was soft and delicate as always as she addressed the Princess. "You... you were there, your majesty?" Her voice was even more hushed than normal when she finished.

Celestia nodded. "Yes. I was there when your ancestors first migrated south. Luna wouldn't remember. Our mother... our mother was still carrying Luna at the time." She looked at her sister as she spoke. The blue Alicorn's eyes were fixed to the floor, her face hidden behind her mane like a veil made from the night sky. Celestia faced her audience abruptly. "But make no mistake - I was there, and the truth is nothing like what they say it is... I made sure of that."

Twilight stared at her mentor, baffled. "Princess... are you saying that... that _you_ fabricated the Hearthswarming Eve story?"

Celestia nodded again. "Commander Hurricane, Princess Platinum, Chancellor Puddinghead, the Windigoes - none of it was real. They were all just parts of the story. The story I invented." She looked out the window as she finished, the violet hue of Twilight's ward reflecting in her eyes like a jewel in a pitch black mirror.

Twilight was almost speechless, but not quite. "... why?" She was more confused at that time than she'd ever been before in her life.

Celestia looked down at her like a mother gazing down at her foal, making Twilight blush. "Twilight... if there's one lesson that the Hearthswarming Eve tale has taught you, and countless other ponies like you... what would it be?"

"... that violence brings catastrophe... and friendship endures all." Realization flashed across her face.

Celestia smiled. "Yes, Twilight. The story... as erroneous as it may be, it's been... indispensable, in shaping our society. Believe it or not, we've not always been the way we are today. Once, a long time ago, we were harsh, violent, and unforgiving; a product of our environment, as it were. Since we've arrived in this land, ponies' hearts have softened. You've learned to love, tolerate, and befriend one another, all because of the message of the Hearthswarming fable, and other stories like it. I think you can guess at this point that nothing of the sort would have come of the truth."

Twilight's head was spinning. She fumbled for words, trying to think of how to reply, and failing.

Applejack beat her to it. "Your highness, with all due respect... what was so bad about th' past that ya had to... well, lie, to keep it quiet?" Ever the Element of Honesty, the fact that Celestia had so callously deceived them all these years cut her especially deep.

The flame seemed to recede from Celestia's mane, taking her youth with it. For a second, she looked just as ancient as she truly was. When she spoke, her voice was delicate, as though it might shatter if she weren't careful. "... there was one thing, my little ponies... one thing about the story that I'd kept the same. Something which was... adaptable to my purposes. The core reason behind the migration."

They all knew what she was referring to. "... the Long Winter, your highness?" Rarity asked.

The Long Winter was the name for the great blizzard which had driven the pony tribes to migrate south. True to its name, the storm had fallen over the world like a wolf on its prey, ravaging the land and nearly driving the three tribes of Unicorns, Earth Ponies, and Pegasi to starvation. The fields were covered beneath a seemingly permanent sheet of snow and ice, farms were wiped out overnight, and as time went on, the prospect of growing crops became more and more impossible. As food stores dwindled, conflict erupted between the tribes for what was left, escalating almost to the point where full scale war seemed inevitable. That was when they decided to leave their ancient lands for a new one; so, they headed south, taking everything with them and leaving the old world far behind.

Celestia nodded affirmation. "Yes, Rarity. The Long Winter... but not the way you know it. The Long Winter... was a dark time. Ponies fought. Ponies starved. Ponies froze. Ponies died. Ponies were driven to commit unspeakable crimes. Ponies did things that I am even ashamed to admit that we could even be capable of doing. Ponies... ponies were corrupted."

She turned to the mare in the Stetson. "Now do you see why I did what I did, Applejack? Stories like that have no place in Equestria – in the world I was trying to create." When Applejack said nothing, she turned back to Twilight.

"Common belief holds that the storm was caused by Windigoes," Celestia said. "Serpents which feed off of conflict. They brought Winter with them everywhere they went. Most ponies think that they were attracted by the distrust between the tribes. They believe they were what caused the Long Winter..." Her voice had fallen to something dangerously quiet. "...but they're wrong."

By now, Twilight had found her voice. Everypony was thinking the same thing, a question which she gave breathe. "... then what did?"

Celestia didn't seem to hear her. Twilight repeated the question, but she gave no response. She bent her legs, laying herself shakily onto the floor as though she were suddenly too weak to stand.

Twilight looked in her eyes. She saw only darkness. She said her name, but she knew she couldn't hear. Her eyes flicked and widened as though she were seeing something happen right in front of her, but there was nothing there. The Elements looked to each other uncomfortably. An unspoken concern for the Princess was shared by all.

Luna walked in front of her, pivoting as she moved so her eyes never left her sister's. She dropped to her forelegs and looked her sister in the eyes, only to receive a blank stare in return.

"'Tia?" Luna said, her voice tinged with worry.

Just like that, the spell was broken. She blinked. She looked back into her sister's eyes. Then, before she could react, Celestia threw her hooves around her sister's neck, pulling her in close and nuzzling her affectionately. Luna froze, and returned the gesture awkwardly, wrapping her forelegs around Celestia tenderly as the white Alicorn held her tight. None of the elements had the heart to interrupt.

Luckily, they didn't have to – Celestia looked to her faithful student with a solemn look in her eye. "Twilight," she started. "You want answers, don't you?"

Twilight nodded.

"You'll find them, all of them, in a certain book; a book I'd had stored safely away in this very library many centuries ago. I couldn't risk keeping it in Canterlot - too busy, too conspicuous. So, I'd had it delivered here, where no one would suspect. It should be..." she was interrupted by the sound of slow, heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. They all turned, and saw the hunched form of Spike, hefting a book that looked heavier than he was over his shoulders , panting heavily as he trudged his way over to the group. He shot Twilight a grin.

"Hey, Twi'... that thing you were looking for... I found it." Then, his legs gave out. He collapsed ,the book coming down on him with a crash and knocking the wind from his lungs. He wheezed pitifully, and shot Twilight a look that begged for help.

Twilight's horn started to glow as she lifted the book graciously off his back. He sucked in his breath and worked out a barely audible 'thank you' as Twilight scrutinized the book's cover.

Celestia, meanwhile, couldn't stop staring. Her hooves had gone limp, leaving Luna free to turn and stare as well. "Spike, where did you find that?" She asked, the awe plain in her voice.

He huffed. "It was in..." He wheezed. "...the Archives. It stuck out like... a sore hoof."

Celestia blinked. She shook her head, and tried to sound as though nothing strange had happened. "Yes, well... ahem. Twilight, the book you're holding is a _vade__mecum_ of the history and mythology of the old world. It covers everything you could want to know about the old days, from the Long Winter, to ancient peoples and cultures, to the gods they worshiped. "

Twilight turned the book around with her horn. It was bound in a very smooth material she'd never seen before in her life, held together with string, had a plain cover but for the title with elaborate embroidery running along the edge. It was heavy; she opened it, and found the parchment was yellowed and brittle with age, with text that she could tell right away was hoof copied.

"There's a certain section I want you to read," Celestia said. "The pages are older there, more worn. You should find it without too much trouble."

She did. Twilight opened the book, flipping through the pages until she found the section she was referring to. Taking up the left side of the page was an illustration, drawn in the style of the ancients – angular, isometric, with many exaggerated features – that looked like it could be a mural on the walls of a temple. It depicted ponies and many other creatures, some mythical, in scenes ranging from great councils, to great battles, subscript running underneath in a language she couldn't understand.

Celestia sighed. "Rise, Twilight, and come closer." Twilight obeyed without question, leaving the book open on the bed as she moved to stand right in front of the Princess. She bent her head, touching her horn to Twilight's, and the magic came like a stream of water springing forth. Twilight let out a sigh as she was encompassed by a mystical glow for several seconds, gasping as the magic flowed through her like wind through a tunnel, filling her with its warmth as she felt her tongue start to twitch.

Once the Princess was done, Twilight felt like she was going to throw up, but she refused to show weakness – not in front of the Princess. The illness passed without incident a moment later, but she was still breathing heavily nonetheless. Celestia gave her a moment to recover before proceeding.

"I've granted you the common tongue of the ancients," she explained before anypony could ask. "You'll have no problems reading, now. Go; it'll tell you everything you could want to know."

Twilight turned to the tome laying inconspicuously on top of her bed. It called to her, the pages enticing her to come and drink in their words like milk. She cantered over to her mattress and climbed up onto the sheets. She didn't doubt the Princess, but she couldn't help being surprised when the book's text, completely unreadable a few seconds ago, came as easily to her as if it were her native Eqaan. Her voice was almost a whisper as she began to recite the scripture, a melancholy atmosphere settling in over the group like a light rain.

"Almost 400,000 years ago, another race lived in this world – a powerful tribe of magic users, from a place other than our own. They were the first people, the ones who came before all else. They were the ones who created all the sentient races, the mothers and fathers of life. They were called the Él'in – the Golden-blooded.

"The Él'in were revered and venerated by all; pony, zebra, gryphon, elf, man, and even the dragons bent their knee to the Gold-bloods. We were like a pastime to them. They created life the way we create music or art. Some, such as the men or the elves, they made in their own image. Others, such as us, were imitations of the lesser beasts of the world. Nobody knew where they came from, some say not even them.

"They were our makers. For the longest time, they were our rulers. But, powerful though they were, and though they were worshiped as such, they were not gods. They were not omniscient; they were not all powerful - they were not unkillable. Not even they could escape death..." Twilight trailed off. Her friends had gathered around her, and were soaking in her words like sponges.

She looked up to the princess. "Are you telling us what I think you are?"

Celestia nodded. "I am. I believe that this blizzard is the work of an Él'in. And not just any Él'in – I think this is the doing of the only one left."

"Applebloom? Sweetie Belle?"

The ponies towered high over the young filly's head as she made her way through the crowd. The tumultuous din of hundreds of different voices flooded her ears, leaving her feeling dizzy and disoriented as she tried to feel her way through their ranks. She could barely see through the thick mass of bodies swarming around her, forming a living wall of skin of every kind of color she could imagine. She felt claustrophobic, as though she were lost deep in a forest of flesh, the stuffy air smothering her with every shallow breath she took.

Lost amongst the crowd, the young filly (two and a half feet tall, a blank flank, magenta hair, orange fur) was inconspicuous. She was just another drop in the sea - one pony amongst hundreds. She pushed her way through the masses, running her eyes over the crowd as she did. She recognized many of their faces, but none of them were the ones she wanted to see most. She was looking for somepony. Or, rather, two someponies. Two someponies who, she was sure, were looking for her just as she was looking for them.

"Applebloom! Sweetie Belle! Where are you?" She called, but her voice was lost like a boat swallowed by the ocean. She looked around, her ears perked for a response, but she heard nothing. She kept on walking, calling their names occasionally as she went, her eyes peeled for the familiar colors of her two closest friends, but she never saw them.

She found a break in the crowd and stepped out into the open, savoring the fresh air as she got ahold of her bearings. The front door was to her left, the bookshelves covering the perimeter of the room in either direction. Outside the window, she could see a strange magenta light, seemingly keeping the blizzard at bay as it glowed with a gentle,luminescent sheen. Still, she found no sign of the two.

The townsfolk milled around her restlessly, conversing in low, worried voices. Eyes jumped nervously, some to the windows, some to the Elements speaking with the Princesses up above.

Being surrounded by so many strangers was making Scootaloo uneasy. She didn't know what was going on, and she was starting to grow worried for her friends.

She felt alone, like this. Alone and vulnerable and exposed. Alone...

_No._ She wouldn't think about that, not now. That was the past. She had to think about now. That's what she told herself, but it was no use. Hot tears came unbidden to her eyes, but she blinked them away quickly.

Suddenly, she decided she was tired of waiting.

She walked off briskly, trudging through the congregation with heavy hooves, and a heavy heart. She'd stopped calling for her friends. She was walking, but she didn't care where she went. She carried on aimlessly, with only her thoughts for company.

She eventually found herself again at the edge of the crowd, a wall of books stopping her in her tracks. Suddenly, she felt very tired; she got down on her haunches and leaned her head against the wall, trying to make herself unnoticeable, finding what cushioning she could in the ancient spines arranged in the shelf beside her.

She folded her legs into her chest and tried to get as warm as she could, her fur bristling like pine needles in the cold. She closed her eyes and sighed as fresh tears streamed silently down her face. She almost didn't notice when a small, heavily accented voice called to her through the crowd.

"Scootaloo!" the voice chirped.

Scootaloo blinked in surprise. She'd been lost in her brooding, and the voice had jarred her back into the present. She craned her neck to find the voice's owner, and, surely enough, Applebloom was cantering in her direction, their mutual friend Sweetie Belle in tow.

Applebloom, an Earth Pony and member of the Apple family, had a light yellow coat and a bow in her lush magenta hair, while Sweetie, a Unicorn and younger sister of the Element of Generosity, was as white as porcelain with a mane the color of lilac. Sweetie was of an age with Scootaloo and Applebloom was a few months older, though their flanks just as bare.

Scootaloo, Applebloom and Sweetie Belle had been inseparable since the day they first met. She remembered it like it was yesterday; the day of Diamond Tiara's cutecinera. She and Sweetie Belle, the only two foals without marks in their class, had attended together. When they saw Applebloom falling prey to Diamond Tiara's torment, they came to her defense, publicly declaring their pride for being what they were and turning the crowd to their side, much to Tiara's chagrin.

They'd stood up for her then, and for it, they'd forever earned her trust, and her friendship. They formed a pact on that day, promising to help each other find their special talents until all of them had earned their marks. The Cutie Mark Crusaders, they called themselves. They'd stayed the course every day since, never faltering in their devotion to the search for what made them special.

On seeing her friends, Scootaloo's spirits soared. She climbed to her hooves to greet them, hastily wiping her tears away before they had the chance to see. She called out to them, "Hey, Applebloom, hey Sweetie Belle!"

"There ya are, Scootaloo! We've been lookin' all over fer 'ya!" Applebloom said, cantering to her side opposite Sweetie Belle. "Where were ya' hidin'?"

"I was... looking for you guys," she replied. She put on her best winning face, hoping her friends didn't notice anything unusual about her.

It didn't work. Applebloom narrowed her eyes suspiciously and looked more closely at Scootaloo's face. "Are those... tear stains, Scootaloo?"

"What are you talking about?" Scootaloo smiled nervously, backing away from her slowly.

Applebloom ignored her. "Scootaloo... have you been crying?"

She had to think on her hooves. "What? Oh, this? Um, no, it's my... uh... allergies..." she bluffed.

"Allergies." Applebloom droned. "To what?"

"Umm... uhh..." She said the first thing that came to mind. "... the snow!"

Applebloom gave her a blank stare. "... Snow. You're allergic to snow."

Scootaloo felt sweat starting to build on her brow. "Yeah, snow. And, what, with all this crazy weather going around, I've been getting... irritated. Yeah." She smiled even more widely, praying to Celestia that the lie would hold.

There were a few moments of silence, during which Scootaloo was weathered down by Applebloom's stare. She looked like she was about to say something, but Sweetie Belle chose that moment to pipe up. "Oh my, that sounds terrible," she said with a look of concern. "Are you okay?"

Scootaloo mentally breathed a sigh of relief. She loved Sweetie like a sister, but sometimes she could be a bit too trusting. Or perhaps slow, she wasn't sure which. "Oh, yeah, I'm fine. It just makes my eyes a bit watery, that's all. Really, I'll be fine."

Applebloom was unconvinced. She narrowed her eyes until they were just slits, her eyes never leaving Scootaloo's own. Just as she felt herself starting to crack under the tension, Applebloom relented. "... alright, then," she drawled. Then, she turned and started walking away.

"Hey, Applebloom! Where're ya going?" Scootaloo called after her.

"I'm going to find a good place to brainstorm ideas! What, you think the crusade's off just because of a little bit of snow? C'mon girls!" With that, she turned and vanished into the crowd.

"Wait for me!" Sweetie called before running after her.

Scootaloo stared for a moment, before trotting after them, shaking her head mirthfully. _Saved __by __the __Belle__, _she thought.

By this time, Twilight thought to offer her guests spare blankets from her closet. The Princesses declined graciously despite Twilight's insistence, claiming that they had no need of them to stay warm. Her friends wrapped themselves in the fabrics like a soft, linen cocoon, locking in what little heat they could – with how frigid it had been, the itchy folds gave them some small respite, though it was a far cry from the gentle breath of summer on their skin.

"Ever since they arrived in this plane, the Él'in had a single king." Celestia began. "He was called Akar'in the Firm, and he ruled over his race and all others under the moniker 'King of Kings.' His realm was the old world and all its inhabitants his subjects, from where the sun rose near Horizon to where it set in the Sea of Salt. And he was feared and respected by all – he was their king, and he made sure none ever forgot.

"In his time, Akar'in had three children. Lord Frídr'in, the eldest, was quiet and introverted, and would rather spend his time with artistic pursuits than inherit his father's throne. His name meant 'frost.' They say that his name came from the icy detachment with which he treated all but his closest friends. This group included his brother, Lord Áran'in.

"Lord Áran'in was the second-born. His name, in their language, means 'wind.' It suited him well; he was always wild and constantly on the move, never staying in one place for too long. He was a kind and merciful ruler, slow to anger, and for it, he had the love of his subjects. It also earned him his father's scorn, as he thought his benevolence to be signs of weakness, but... others knew better.

"Lord Roa'in, the youngest, was frail and sickly since the day he was born. His name meant 'River', and he always seemed to be on death's doorstep. He was constantly bedridden, and at his best, he was almost too weak to stand. Somehow, he managed to survive into adulthood, but his condition never improved. Eventually, it reached the point where he could barely speak at all. He was mocked and derided from all corners of the realm; that a weakling like him called himself 'Lord' was a joke in the eyes of those beneath him. He commanded no respect, knew no love from his people, and his condition only suffered as a result."

That was when Spike returned, setting a steaming teapot on a table near the middle of the room. Vapor wafted towards the ceiling, and the scent made Twilight's mouth water. He offered Celestia a cup, which she accepted gracefully, her horn glowing a gossamer white as she raised the delicate ceramic to her lips. She sipped the tea silently, letting it warm her insides as the hot liquid slithered down her throat. Twilight did the same, and offered a word of thanks on behalf of everypony. Spike shrugged it off as nothing, and then left to attend to their other guests downstairs.

"Roa'in died when he was young. Aran'in... went missing." She grimaced. "... No mortal pony knows what became of him." Twilight noted her wording, but made nothing of it. "And Fridr'in... Fridr'in committed a horrible, unspeakable crime. He was banished to Tartarus, to live out the rest of his days in the fires of the damned. He's been there for over ten thousand years now."

Twilight looked at Celestia. She looked out the window. Then back to Celestia.

"... he couldn't have...you don't think he... "

"... do I think he broke free? From Tartatus?" Celestia finished for her.

Twilight gulped. "Y-... yes."

Celestia didn't answer. She sat down on her forelegs once more, setting the teacup shakily down next to her. She stared into the drink, examining her reflection as it stared back at her from the rippling apricot pool.

"So... let me get this straight," Rainbow Dash began. "You guys think that this blizzard's happening because some ancient Snow God broke free from Tartarus? Am I getting this right?"

Celestia nodded solemnly. "That's the gist of it, yes. My reach is long, but Tartarus... Tartarus lays beyond the grasp of the living. Even mine. He could be there, or he could be free, and we'd never know... unless he wanted us to."

Twilight asked; "What about my dream? What of those... things, I saw?"

For the longest time, Celestia didn't have the strength to answer. Twilight grew concerned, and was about to repeat her question, when she shook her head subtly, almost too subtly to notice." ...I can see them too," she murmured. "I can see them fighting... I can see his hand falling to the snow... I can see him standing there... covered in his brother's blood..."

_In __my __blood__._

Twilight's eyes shot open. She scrambled to her hooves, spilling her tea over the floor in the process. _That__voice__..._

Everypony else had heard it too. Rainbow Dash and Applejack swore simultaneously as they jumped up from their seats; Pinkie was slapping Rarity on the back as she coughed on her tea; and Fluttershy was doing her best to look as small as possible. Luna watched as her sister stood, her gaze jumping wildly about the library, her eyes wide. "No..."

_Celestia__... __It__'__s __been __so __long__, _the voice continued. _I __was __almost __afraid __you__'__d __forgotten __about __me__. __After __all__, __ten __thousand __years __is __a __long __time__..._

Celestia's head whipped around, searching for a voice that seemed to be coming from nowhere and everywhere at once. "No... where... where are you!?"

The voice ignored her. _Ten __thousand __years__... __that__'__s __how __long __it__'__s __been__. __Can __you __imagine__, __Celestia__? __Of __course __you __can__'__t__. __You__'__ve __been __living __in__opulence __ever__since __you __stole __my __throne__. __You __don__'__t __know __suffering__, __usurper__... __the __closest __you__'__ve __ever __come __to __it __is __not __having __your __little __sister __to __share __in __your __decadence__._

Celestia glowered. Twilight could feel the fury start to rise in her like a bonfire. "Show yourself!" she bellowed.

_... __As __you __wish__._

The room's temperature plummeted like a 's ears perked - the storm's howling had ceased, though it took none of Winter's chill with it. She felt her coat stand on end as a light wind stirred, as if another blizzard was starting to build inside her home, but it lasted for only a split second before dying down again.

On the floor below, she heard several ponies gasp. They started to murmur amongst themselves, the whispering floating up to her balcony like the humming of wasps around her head.

Twilight turned on her hooves and made her way to the balusters. Her friends were right beside her, peering down at the lower floor, not knowing what to expect. Ponies stepped back, making way for something; the crowd formed a circle around the new arrival, from which the elements could see him clearly.

He looked just like he did in the dream. Smooth, white hair came flowing down past his shoulders, hiding his ears behind a snowy curtain which glinted beautifully in the candlelight. His gaunt, yet regal face was still young, but a weathered sort of wisdom sat within his eyes, and white, shaggy scruff clung to his jaw and upper lip. His face had a haunted look to it, Twilight thought. A black cloak was draped across his shoulders, a pure, impermeable black, like he'd taken the darkness of Tartarus back from the land of the dead. Over his torso was an equally black ringmail hauberk, the neck adorned with bear's fur, which split down the middle near his waist, continuing down his legs and ending in points near the top of his shins. Underneath was a faded gray robe reaching down past his feet, covering all but the tips of his boots. On his hip hung a sword as long as two of Twilight, the venerable blade as silver as the moon, the razor edge stained with dried blood and craving fresh.

"Frídr'in..." Celestia said breathlessly.

Lord Frídr'in's eyes narrowed.

"Oh, dear Celestia... is this how you greet your father?"

Seconds passed. Silence descended over the room like a shadow, the only sound the shrieking of the blizzard beyond the walls of the tree.

Then, a shocked murmur erupted throughout the floor of the library. All eyes jumped between Lord Frídr'in and Princess Celestia, many incredulous, many disbelieving, each of them with hundreds of questions which came spilling out of their mouths like a flood. Frídr'in clenched his fist, which silenced the voices effectively.

_Father__?_ Twilight thought. _Him__?_ How could that be possible? These two had about as much in common as night and day. She was an Alicorn; he was... something else. She couldn't be his child... could she?

Then again, Twilight couldn't recall her ever speaking of her father before. Celestia and Luna's parentage was another matter of many a scholarly dialectic, and it was not unheard of in mythology for deities to have children which were a completely different race than they were. She never spoke of her father and seldom of her mother, and even then, it was clear that she'd rather the subject not be broached. Could this be why...?

The Elements of Harmony stared between Celestia and the Snow God, stunned into silence. Many moments passed before Twilight found her voice. Twilight turned to her mentor – there was only one way to find out. "Your... father? P-Princess... is this true?"

She spread her wings, jumping from Twilight's quarters and letting herself fall towards the floor. Ponies scrambled to make space, and she landed gracefully not thirty feet from where Frídr'in stood. She retracted her wings and rose to her full height, staring at The Lord of Winter defiantly from across the room, ten thousand years worth of hatred focused in her gaze.

**"My father died the day the Long Winter began,"** she declared. Twilight recoiled; never did she think that she would see Princess Celestia use the Royal Canterlot Voice, but here she was doing exactly that. Her eyes glowed like the sun, her mane billowing behind her like a fire the color of the dawn, day, and night. **"You're not my father - you're a killer! A beast, who belongs in the deepest, darkest pits of the Underworld! I don't know how you escaped, but, so help me, with the sun as my witness, I **_**will **_**see you returned, one way or another!"**

The White-haired figure didn't even flinch. By this time, Luna had joined her sister on the ground, but he didn't even seem to notice her. He considered the white Alicorn, neither smiling nor frowning, never blinking, never looking away.

"I am Frídr'in, last of the Él'in," he said icily. "I watched the reaper of souls die at my hand. The gates of Tartarus crumbled to let me pass. I've brought entire races to their knees. Do you think I fear you, my child? My shadow could crush you beneath its bootheel. And so long as I draw breath, I do swear, on my blood and the blood of my fathers; your world will fall to me, just like the one before it."

Celestia gave an enraged scream, rearing her head as her horn started to glow with arcane power. Light spilled out in a great vortex, golden arms swirling about like a tornado of stars. Luna joined her, augmenting her magic with her own, a whirlpool of darkness to match Celestia's, just as she was a match to her. There was a crack like thunder, and entwined beams of glistening, heavenly light exploded from their horntips, lancing towards Frídr'in's breast like magical arrows gleaming with an ashen glow.

Frídr'in made no move to evade. He stood, rooted into place, a small smile forming on his lips.

The beam connected with his chest, striking him in the heart. The light spread out from the point of contact, expanding until it covered his entire body from head to toe. It looked like he was standing in the shadow of the sun.

It was too bright – Twilight had to avert her eyes, covering her face with a hoof as the sheer brilliance filled the room like floodwater, until her eyes burned, even through their lids.

When the glow receded, Twilight blinked to clear her sight of the scars the light left. She rubbed them gingerly as the world started to fade back into view, peering at the ground as everypony else was starting to recover. Luna and Celestia were breathing heavily, clearly exhausted by the spell, their eyes fixed firmly forward. Twilight looked to where The Lord of Winter had stood, expecting to see nothing left of him but a stone statue.

When she saw him standing there, completely unharmed, she felt she was going to be sick.

Frídr'in only smiled. "And here I thought you would put up a fight... " He reached his hand out, his elbow straight, his fingers lax. Twilight was surprised; _didn__'__t __he __lose __that __hand__?_, she wondered; That was when Twilight noticed that it was oddly pale, unnaturally so. Her dream came rushing back to her, to the white hand gripping her foreleg...

He clenched his fist, and blue tendrils appeared along his skin, running up and down his arm like cracks in glass. They started to pulsate, the cerulean glow building in intensity until it seemed his arm would burst from the strain. Then, he opened his hand. White lightning exploded from his palm with a deafening roar, nearly blowing her off her hooves and searing Twilight's flesh with the cold of a thousand moons.

The first thing Twilight was reminded of was dragon fire, but where dragonfire was hot, this magic made her feel as though her blood had just turned to ice. The second thing she was reminded of was the sea - she'd never seen the ocean before, but this was how she imagined the freezing water swirling around her legs and through her fur to feel. The hideous forms of monstrosities lurking beneath the waves ran through her imagination, slithering into her mind like snakes writhing inside her skull. She shuddered, both from the cold, and from fear.

The energy arced towards the two like a spectral bridge, seeking to devour everything in its path. Twilight was forced to look away as it struck. Luna and Celestia were knocked off their hooves, flying through the air and crashing into the bookshelves at their backs. They hit with a sickening _crunch_, the wood splintering beneath their weight as books fell out onto the floor. They collapsed with a resounding _thud_, their eyes closed.

Then, the cold fire vanished into thin air, slipping out of existence like the tongues of an extinguished candle.

Twilight could hear a pin drop in the breathless silence which followed – the only sound was the howling of the blizzard beyond her ward. Twilight stared down from the balusters, shock written across her face; Celestia was laying on the ground, her bruised body as limp as a ragdoll. She silently prayed for Celestia to rise, for her to be okay. Her prayers were answered when she pulled herself back onto her hooves, breathing heavily, backing up against the shelf as Frídr'in walked towards her, a cruel glint in his eyes. She started to speak as he neared;

"Do you remember Roa'in?" She said, her voice faint and windless. "Your brother? The one you _murdered__?"_ She croaked out, glaring at her father hatefully. Twilight felt her heart shatter; hatred had no place in those eyes. "He looked up to you, didn't he?" she rasped. He stopped in front of her; he was a head taller than she was. "He trusted you. And how did you repay him?"

He cocked his head.

She glared at him mockingly. "Tell me honestly, Father... was there ever a time when you felt remorse? Or was killing always this easy for-"

She didn't get to finish. He brought his foot down on her knee, snapping it backwards with a resounding _crack_. She cried in pain as her bones shattered like glass, falling to the floor and rolling onto her side as Frídr'in towered over her like a vulture ,waiting for her to breathe her last. He smiled ruefully.

" ..._easy,_ Celestia? You think that this is _easy_? They were my siblings, Celestia – my own blood.

"I loved them more than life itself. I would give anything to be able to change the past, to have not have had to do what I did. But I can't."

He leaned in. "I know, what happened between you and Luna, my child. I know about how you locked her away in the moon for a thousand years. You know what it is to lose a loved one. I know you understand."

Celestia spat at him. She said four words. "I never killed Luna."

He planted his heel in her jaw, shattering her teeth as easily as if they were eggshells. She gasped in pain as her life started to flow from her mouth, dripping onto the floor like a light, red rain. She licked at what was left of her incisors gingerly, wincing as her tongue grazed an exposed nerve.

Pinkie, for one, had seen enough. She turned from the scene abruptly, making her way to the middle of her bedroom as her friends looked on in horror. She bent over, running her eyes over the ground carefully, before settling on something only she could see. She put her hooves on the ground, and pulled back; the floorboard slipped out of place with a click, revealing a hidden compartment underneath. She grinned and placed it to the side.

Rainbow Dash, noticing her friend was missing, turned her head back, and her eyes widened in surprise as she lifted a familiar looking box out of the ground. She opened the box, and sure enough, the Elements of Harmony were inside.

Pinkie was grinning. "Since that bully Discord broke loose, I've decided to take matters into my own hooves," she explained. "So, I said to myself: 'Hey, I know! We should keep the Elements close, so that this doesn't happen again!'" She smiled cheekily. "As it turns out, I was right."

Twilight spluttered. "P-Pinkie... how did... you can't... what the... what!?"

Applejack didn't miss a beat. When it came to Pinkie, she'd learned at this point to go along with even the craziest of turns, including this one. "Well, what're we waitin' for? C'mon, girls!" She reached for her element, slipping it brusquely around her neck. "Just one thing, though... The Princess agreed ta' this?"

A mischievous grin spread across Pinkie's face. "Oh, she doesn't know... proves my point, doesn't it?" She slung the Element of Laughter around her neck. "Get ready, girls – we have an elder god to defeat!"

Meanwhile, Celestia coughed pitifully, and replied – with broken teeth, she was difficult to understand;

"Luna... was a threat to her people... and to herself," she said weakly. "And you... just look at you. You're a monster. You deserved nothing less than Tartarus... at least then, you couldn't hurt anybody..."

He snorted. "And you would have been any different? The mortals needed to be taught their place. That fool, Arcturus, rebelled against me, me and my brother, and the realms of mortals lined up behind him, followed his every order like sheep to the slaughter – they all did. That was their choice, not mine. What would you've had me do?"

"You could have let us go free," Rainbow Dash said. Frídr'in turned, and the crowd parted. The six stood side by side, the Elements proudly displayed across their necks, the Tiara of Magic resting firmly upon Twilight's crown.

Frídr'in looked at them, his expression a subtle mix between annoyance, derision, and curiosity. "And who are you, that speaks of freedom...?"

"Those who know what freedom is," Twilight replied. "Those who can tell when that freedom is threatened... and those who know how to defend it."

Her response seemed to amuse him. "A sharp one. Too sharp for your own good." He chuckled lightly, and the next moment, his face was as stern and unyielding as the North. "Go on, then. If you speak the truth, then by all means – defend it. See what your words are worth to an Él'in."

Twilight looked to her friends, and received nods from all of them. She stared directly into the Snow God's eyes, defiance written stark across her face. A moment passed, before a radiant glow developed around her, encapsulating her and her friends in an effervescent orb of light. They were lifted off their hooves and into the air, the elements emitting a dulcet hum as the magic flowed through them like water through a pipe. Their eyes turned completely white, glimmering with an unearthly brilliance as power filled the mares' bodies.

"Twilight... no, stop..." Celestia whispered, but no one seemed to hear her.

Fridr'in watched, silence sealing his lips. The years had taught him caution over curiosity, but it had also taught him to know his enemy as well as the back of his hand. If these ponies were to be his enemy, he wanted to know everything about them that they could – including the extent of their power. Besides, he was confident that nothing they could do would cause him any harm. For now, he resigned himself to observe.

That was when the ground started to shake beneath his feet, trembling as though from a stampede. Fridr'in stumbled, catching himself before he plunged to the floor of the library, and looked back up to the elements. "What...?"

They were the last thing he saw before a beam of rainbow light raced down from above, wrapping around his limbs and putting all the weight of the sun onto his shoulders. He grunted as he was forced to his knees, sending a loud crash echoing through the room. His eyes widened, urgency plain on his face as the spectrum curled around his wrists, bringing him down beneath the raw power of the Elements. He struggled, fighting desperately to free himself as Twilight and her friends strained from the effort of holding him.

Twilight, meanwhile, felt like she was trying to corral a Hydra with a lasso. The muscles bulged in her neck, and she audibly groaned from the effort. This wasn't right – neither Nightmare Moon nor Discord had ever put up this much of a fight.

Before too long, he gained the upper hand, managing to climb back up to his knees and throw them off. Twilight fought with all her might to keep the prison intact, but it was no use. She screamed in despair as the magic was shattered; the chains burst, unleashing a shockwave which launched her and her friends clear across the library. The luckier ones landed on the floor, while the unlucky ones collided directly with the bookshelves, knocking them unconscious as their bodies fell limply to the floor.

Twilight was one of the luckier ones – she hit the ground with a loud crash, knocking the wind out of her as she slid to a stop against the table in the middle of the library, while her Tiara came skidding to a halt inches from her face. She tried to rise, but the effort of using the Elements had left her drained, and she just barely managed to keep her eyes open as she gasped for breath like a fish out of water.

Frídr'in rearranged his robes and brushed the dust off of his hauberk. He walked towards her, his pace cruelly slow, his eyes never leaving her own. He bent down, and whispered in her ear; "Well, I guess you won't be needing this..." he picked up the headpiece and clenched his fingers, snapping it in two.

Never before and never after did Twilight want to cause someone pain like she wanted to right then.

He turned back towards Celestia. "So these are your charges then, Celestia?" Celestia was too weak to answer. He continued.

"You've taught them admirably... but Elements or no, they're still mere mortals."

He reached for his sword, drawing it slowly. "Look at you... we could have been so much more than this..." The sound of steel on leather rent the air as the blade emerged from its sheath. Twilight's eyes widened. "No..." she croaked. She tried to stand, to reach the Princess, but she was too weak.

Celestia looked at the blade grimly. Frídr'in said not a single word, his eyes not leaving her face as he held the sword's pommel to his breast. He solemnly touching the blade to his forehead. Celestia's magenta eyes jumped to Frídr'in's golden ones. What she said next, she said not in anger, nor in contempt, or even in fear – it was in sadness.

"I pray to whatever gods watch over you, father... but not even they can save you now."

Celestia's gaze fell slowly, lingering on Twilight, before she closed her eyes and bowed her head in acceptance. For a few seconds, he did nothing. Then, he lifted the blade into the air, the steel glinting wickedly as it slipped through the daylight. Twilight wanted to scream.

He brought the sword down on her neck.

_Darkness __falls__, '__tween __shadows __tall_

_But __shadows __burn __and __darkness __dies_

_For __Daytime __light __shines __on __through __all_

_And __Night __will __vanish __from __the __skies_

_The __Phoenix __watches __from __her __perch_

_Upon __the __Golden __mount__'__nside_

_She __takes __the __realm __beneath __her __wing_

_And __casts __the __wicked __dark __aside_

_The __sun __rose __high__, __bid __Darkness __die_

_ And Golden light burns, east to west_

_ The stars above, they fade away_

_ As silver moon lays down to rest_

_And __when __she __must__, __she __turns __to __dust_

_But __from __the __ash __again __she__'__ll __rise_

_The __Phoenix__, __she __will __always __rise_

_The __Phoenix __never __dies_

From _The __Phoenix__,_ a poem from the _Book __of __the __Sun_


End file.
